Daughter of the Blood
by Miriel-F
Summary: She was of the Light, a born healer, and a warrior by choice, above all she was the last hope of a dying Empire. He was of the Dark, a Nightwalker, an immortal older than time. His blood compelled him to destroy her, so why did he spare her? KxB Evil Ken
1. Chapter 1

Hello, I am back! Yes I am back with a new dark, angst-filled story, yup that's me. Before I go on, please **read** the following important notes:

- This fanfiction is based on a novel (again! Yes I am not really creative) called Into the Dark Lands by Michelle West. A beautiful, beautiful novel, words cannot begin to describe how incredible and sad her novels are. But had it been my novel, I would have changed many things, thus was how this fanfiction was born. Now the basic idea is the same, light against darkness, and I have borrowed a couple of scenes but mostly the events are mine. I will indicate clearly when I use any scenes from Ms. Michelle.

- Secondly, Kenshin is evil in this story, not the psycho Enishi-kind-of-evil. He is born of the dark, he is not human. Compassion, mercy and gentleness are not in his nature and he cannot help it. Kaoru is exactly his opposite. It would be a pleasure to write how they come to fall in love.

- Finally, I warn you, and I will warn you again, this is a dark story, filled with blood and death. Happy moments are rare, even Kenshin's and Kaoru's love is shadowed. Now I promise you I won't kill either of Kenshin or Kaoru, and I won't let Kaoru be tortured or raped (I swear!) but she will suffer. Therefore, I beg you people, if you don't like angst, if you want fluffy love, go away please.

Now read this summary to understand the nature of Michelle's world and refer to it in the future:

In this world there are two Gods, the Bright Lord and the Dark Lord. And under each Lord there are his immortal Servants, Servants of the Light and Servants of the Dark. Each has seven Servants and they are ranked from First to Seventh according to their strength. From those Servants people like Kaoru, called Half Blood came to be. Those Half Blood are mortal but they possess the strength of Light or Darkness depending on which Servant they come from.

Sorry if it sounds complicated but you will understand better once you get into the story.

Disclaimer: I don't own Rurouni Kenshin and the Sundered Tetralogy.

* * *

><p><strong>Daughter of the Blood<strong>

**Chapter 1**

They say love can concur anything...even time...

_A figure made his way along the dark corridors silently. His feet made no sound, as if they didn't touch the floor and his breathing was silent as if he didn't breathe at all. Where he walked darkness seemed to intensify. But he was darker than the darkness, a shadow with no body._

_He entered his private wing which was bathed in darkness too, not a single candle flickered in the blackness._

_Not since she slept._

_The dark figure glided around with the confidence of one who could see perfectly in the dark. A door loomed in his way, leading to his sleeping chamber._  
><em>There he had locked his heart.<em>

_One graceful hand touched the knob and a faint light flared in the darkness before the door was opened._

_Inside the darkness was bathed in a red glow._

_The man made his way to the centre of the room where the red light was concentrated. It was spherical in shaped and no one on this world could trespass it but himself. Uttering three words he walked right through it._

_Inside was a large bed. The figure headed there with an urgency that could be felt and sat at the side of the bed, his amber eyes never leaving the person lying motionless there._

_He edged closer and scooped the limp body gently in his cold arms._

_"Kaoru..." it was a whisper filled with longing. His lips brushed her brow, but the girl remained still, untouched by this gesture. He rested her head against his shoulder and leaned his cheek on her head. "Kaoru, it's been so long, eternity has never seemed long to me...yet, now, every minute is unbearable without you."_  
><em>He situated her so he could look at her young face, a face so beloved, and he almost broke his vow.<em>

_"No," he hugged her tight against his chest, "I shall wait, you are in peace now, you can rest, you can continue sleeping," his hand stroke her soft raven hair, which cascaded in silky curtain along her back, "this world does not deserve you, I shall break it for you, Kaoru, and mould it until I am satisfied," he drew her away a little to look again upon her face again. His body, as if pulled by a force unseen, leaned over and he brushed his lips against hers._

_"Kaoru..." pain resonated along his voice, "let me hold you, lady, let me hold you again tonight..._  
><em>"It's the only way this pain can be bearable."<em>

* * *

><p>He felt it when she came to be in this world.<p>

All the people of the Blood felt her Light the day she was born.

It brought happiness to those of the Light, it caused pain to those of the Dark blood.

It made him feel angry.

Ah little one, such a Light...I yearn to destroy you.

But her Light was then hidden from him and it made him wonder what price the Line Kamiya paid to hide her from him.

It did not matter. One day he will find her, time did not matter, for he was older than time itself.

He was the First Servant of the Dark Lord.

He was a Nightwalker.

He was Battousai.

* * *

><p>A small ravine haired girl knelt by her bed in the darkness. Small chubby hands traced a simple pattern in the air and on its wake blue light followed. The little girl exclaimed in delight before clapping both tiny hands over her mouth.<p>

_Mommy will be angry,_she thought, remembering her mother strong admonition to sleep.

_But I did it!_ Bride swelled within the five years old child. Her parents would be so proud, for she was the first among her peers to control the light.

_I have to show mother._

She jumped to her feet. Once her mother beheld her achievement she would not be angry at her for staying past her sleeping time.

_And I would show papa, once he's back, _she thought as the room was bathed in blue light again. _Perhaps he won't leave again if he saw my light. _

With renewed determination she walked to the door and standing on the tip of her toes twisted the handle and pushed the door open.

She headed along the familiar hallway and down the stairs, bare feet padded on the smooth wood. She rounded the corner and halted suddenly, all caution forgotten.

Her mother's back was to the stairs, and she was not alone. With her was the most beautiful and brilliant man Kaoru had ever seen.

A Servant of the Light was with her.

Sagara

His light, putting her feeble blue to shame, shone so brightly without the need of any simple or complicated gestures. He was tall with soft brown hair and calm face. He was not of this world. This was the Second Servant of Noranen, Second of the Light, his power second only to the Lady, and he was immortal.

He saw her before her mother did, his eyes, the deepest and clearest of blue met hers.

This was the first time she had ever seen Sagara, but it would not be the last.

Her mother turned around. Identical blue eyes stared at the little child from a pale face framed by brown hair.

"Kaoru..." her eyes, blue orbs of Noranen, stared at her daughter, "did we wake you?"

The child's eyes darted between the two adults, one mortal and the other immortal, before she shook her head silently.

After a moment she spoke."What's wrong, Mommy?" littler Kaoru watched her mother as she descended the stairs. Her mother smile was tight and strained.

She had never seen her smile like this before.

"Keria," the calm voice of Sagara said, "let me."

"Is papa back?" the child asked, and her mother made a choked voice but the child's round eyes never left Sagara's. Her father had left with the Second two months ago, he had told her that he would fight alongside the immortal Servant.

If the Second was back it meant her father was here too.

"Come here, little one," Sagara ushered gently.

Slowly Kaoru descended the last of the steps and stood before the Servant.  
><em><br>His light is beautiful._

"Kaoru, child," he knelt by her and Kaoru gazed into the brilliant blue of his yes, "do you understand what the Line Noranen and the other lines must fight for?"

"Yes." There were six lines of the light, Kaoru had been taught. She belonged to line Kamiya, the First Servant of the light.

Her mother came to her and hugged her. _Why is mommy trembling?  
><em>  
>"Do you understand how we fight, and why we must train for so long and so hard?"<p>

"Yes." They fight against the forces of the Dark God. Light cure Darkness. Why was he asking her this?

"Your father has been gone for two months, fighting the Darkness and its followers. He fought well."

"Mommy?" her mother hugged her so tightly. She could not see her face.

"He fought well," the Second was saying, "and aided our cause to the best of his ability. He had finished his fight with honour."

The last sentence was formal; Kaoru had heard it many times. Without thinking, she replied, "he rests in the peace of beyond."

"Yes child he rests in peace now. Where he is, there is no pain, no fighting, no darkness."

Why was he saying this? "Mommy?"

Her mother pulled away, her lovely face still wearing that awful smile. Kaoru was suddenly afraid to ask her mother any questions; something lay beyond that smile that she didn't want to know.

With a child's directness, she turned again to Sagara. The servant had not moved.

"Is my daddy dead?"

He closed his eyes, shutting off for the moment the glow of sapphires. "Yes, Kaoru."

"Oh."

Kaoru was silent, she felt her mother gaze on her, watching her closely.

"Does that mean he won't be coming home?"

Finally the tears which had been held at bay spilled over her mother's cheeks.

* * *

><p>Sagara watched the mother tuck her daughter under the covers of her own bed. The child had not yet realised the meaning of what had transpired.<p>

_She will learn soon._

Like the many other children who are losing their parents daily to the war.

His glowing eyes moved to the mother again. _And you, my child..._

"It's time that we move."

It was not a question but the Second servant treated it as such. "Yes, it is better that this village is evacuated and all villagers are to march further inside Noria."

"The Darkness is spreading."

The tone of the mother's voice troubled the Second. It had darkness in it. But he dared not contradict her statement, for indeed the Darkness was casting its shadows across their beloved country.

"Take the child and protect her," the Second said instead, "her light is strong, she would be one of the greatest healers...and a warrior."

_At a very young age, _his thought was filled with sorrow.

But his words had not the desired effect on the mother. After shedding those initial tears, the mother had retreated to a place inside herself, where even his Light could not reach.

"Yes, I understand," she was still not looking at him. Her eyes were on her daughter and Sagara wondered what she was seeing.

He was here for a reason. His place was in the battle field, but he took the time to visit those two for a good reason.

On them depended the future of the Light.

_No..._his brilliant eyes rested on the sleeping child. _In you, little one, lies our hope, Noranen's hope._

The movement of Keria as she stroke her child's hair caught his attention.

_And you..._

_You will soon join your beloved husband._

* * *

><p>That night Kaoru woke up on the sound of her mother weeping. She heard them as she lay awake in her mother's bed, but did not rise to comfort her.<p>

Everyone said that little Kaoru was not an ordinary child. She was quick and cunning, in the naive way of children. And something told her that her mother did not want her comfort now, that she wanted to be left alone.

She still expected her father to come any moment now.

_And everything will be all right._

* * *

><p>But this hope was short lived. It died when her mother started packing the next morning.<p>

Kaoru cried freely then. What if her father came back? She stared at the door, half expecting to see her father standing on threshold, his arms spread to catch her, the smile she loved so much on his face.

"Daddy won't be coming back," her mother told her, the tight smile was back on her face.

"But daddy said..."

"Your father can't come back, my child. Come now we have work to do, we leave before sunset."

For the rest of their time in the village, Kaoru remained staring at the door, holding her breath every time it was opened.

But the time for departure drew close and her father still did not come back.

_The Light...how am I going to show him my Light?_

* * *

><p>So their travelling began. And Kaoru remained by her mother's side on the wagon, and would not join the rest of the children, who laughed and squealed in another wagon.<p>

Nothing came to fill the hollowness that his death left. But she swore two things: She would become a warrior, like her father and make the Enemy pay. And she would protect her mother from the death that had stolen the father she loved so much.

Years passed and they settled in another village. They heard that their village was taken by the Enemy. It was now part of the dark Empire of Yamidari.

The Darkness was spreading.

While Kaoru put the use of years into hard training, her mother travelled occasionally to other villages so help injured people.

Her mother was a healer, the best. But whispers say that her daughter would surpass her.

Kaoru discovered her healing powers when she was seven. A bird broke its wing and was trying to fly in such a torturous manner that young Kaoru held it gently and ran to the village.

"What do you have there?" a boy appeared suddenly from the trees.

"Okita!" Kaoru exclaimed, gazing at her friend with glistening eyes.

"Kaoru, Kaoru what is it?" his grey-blue eyes gazed at her with concern. He was Kaoru's age but far surpassed her in the sword skills. His skills and gentle manners made him the beloved of many villagers.

"The bird is hurting," Kaoru showed him the bird. The bird lay calmly in her cupped hands. Unknown to Kaoru, she was sending waves of healing Light into the bird, and its injured wing was all but healed.

"I don't see anything wrong with the bird," the boy was looking with a frown at her cupped hands. "Your Light is strange," he commented after a moment.

Kaoru looked down and saw the blue light that was engulfing the little bird slowly, calming it, healing it.

This was her Gift from the Light.

* * *

><p>"Mommy, mommy!"<p>

Keria straightened from her bent position over the powder she was grinding. "Yes, Kaoru?"

"I healed a bird today," she began and would never stop telling her tale.

Her mother looked at her with her blue eyes, which had changed so much since her father had died.

"You did well, Kaoru," but her voice was completely free of any trace of parental pride.

Kaoru sensed it, but in spite of it, she smiled.

_Mother, I will protect you._

* * *

><p>"KAORU!" a strong voice bellowed, "you lazy lout! Keep your arm up and thrust forward, not like this! A creature of darkness would think you are dancing with him not trying to kill him! Do it again! AGAIN!"<p>

Kaoru squared her shoulders and gripped her sword with both hands as she thrust forward at an imaginary enemy. She was not the least raffled by the booming voice that kept bullying her, nor did she care about the eyes that she could feel were watching her. Her senses were one with the sword as she performed the drills. The sword told a story, a story of the battles it had been involved in, of the deaths that occurred at its end. Kaoru listened and danced.

"Better," the voice of the instructor echoed again, "just a tiny bit better, you can step off the circle now."

Relaxing her stance, Kaoru stopped her drills and faced the instructor. Bowing, she surrendered the sword.

His hard eyes gazed from his scarred face angrily. Abirako was a general in the army and according to him he was wasting his time training Kaoru and the other kids. And as Kaoru made her way off the circle to join her comrades he began to remind them of this again.

"Listen you, useless, good-for-nothing brats!" he said as he paced along the circle they formed around him. Kaoru along with twenty other kids her age were in the field near the village. The general was training them as a part of his yearly recruiting tour around the villagers. The training session begins with the first ray of light and ends when the sun was high on the sky. They are training to be soldiers, to defend Noria, the Empire of Light, against the forces of darkness. This training process begins at the age of ten and continues until they achieve their True Light. Some leave as young as the age of thirteen others might train for another ten years and never succeed.

It all depends on when they reach the Light within.

Until then all of them are a bunch of useless kids, as Abirako was saying now.

"Another day wasted, another day where I am trapped with you useless fools. Every day I am here is a day when another dark blooded lives to see another day, another day when another of the light perish at their hands and their bloody ceremonies. So you have to work harder, to reach the light as fast as you can and join the fighting ranks," his hard eyes stared at each one of them, "although I doubt any of you weaklings can survive an hour in the real battle field, GO NOW! Make yourselves useful you brats."

Most of the kids started to scramble around eager to escape.

"KAORU! To me!" Abirako shouted.

"Yes sir!" Kaoru hurried to him, her body tense and straight. Her eyes roamed over his scarred face. Many kids were scared of him but not Kaoru. She knew that despite the permanent grimace that was carved on his face as a result of the scar, he had a kind heart. He worked them hard every day because life in the battle field was nothing if not hard. And despite the pressure he exerted on them to reach the Great Light Kaoru remember the pain and worry on his face when last year one of his students found his Light at thirteen and went to war.

"You can do better than this, Kaoru," he said when Kaoru stood before him, "I hear your skills as a healer are growing unprecedently. The Light can be used for fighting too."

At first Kaoru said nothing. This was something which was a cause of frustration for her too. The Light can be used for healing and for killing, it was rare that someone was born with command of both sides of the Light but she was different. Everyone told her that. And she was a descendant of Kamiya Line. But where healing came naturally to her, killing was more difficult. There was nothing more she wanted to do than use her Light to kill the people of Darkness, however, it was proving more difficult than expected.

"I am doing my best, sir!" she spoke loudly.

"Obviously it's not enough," he paused, "I want you to work harder," he continued, "try to find the Light within you, a different kind of light," his voice softened and he looked oddly at Kaoru, with the kind and sad eyes she had seen last year, but then his eyes hardened, he cleared his throat, "don't stand like this before me, go! You are dismissed."

"Yes sir!" Kaoru moved quickly away.

As she followed the trail back to the village, she heard someone yelling.

"Kaoru!"

Kaoru stopped and smiled at the newcomer. "Okita! I thought you had already left."

"I waited till you were dismissed," he replied as they began to walk again, "what did Abirako want with you?"

A frustrated sigh escaped Kaoru's lips. "The usual repute, I really don't know what to do. While my instructor at the infirmary is praising my skills I can't do more than fight with a sword at the field."

"Be patient," Okita said, "it takes time."

"But you are close to it, I can feel it, and we are of the same age."

"I know I am still just learning how to control it, whereas you...since you were young you could use your powers to heal. I haven't forgotten the bird incidence of four years ago."

Kaoru sighed again. "But it's not enough. I want to be a fighter, I want kill the Enemy, to free the land of the Darkness."

"It will come to you," Okita said in serious tone, "and besides we promised that we will reach our initiation together," a smile broke on his lips, "I won't leave you."

Kaoru grinned. "I know," then she stared at the sky, "oh! I am late I better hurry."

"I will race you to the walls!" Okita exclaimed before he sprinted.

"You cheater!" Kaoru ran after him.

At that time there was still some happiness.

* * *

><p>"Keria."<p>

"Father." Keria bowed and stepped out away from the threshold to allow him to enter. She held the bow a moment longer than strictly necessary while she tried to gather he thoughts.

_Why was he here?_

The High Priest of their village was always busy, he rarely had time for pleasantry visits.

"What brings you here, Father?"

"Is Kaoru about?"

She shook her head, compressing her lips. "Out with one of her year-mates. Okita, I think."

"Ah Okita. One of the brightest children this village had ever seen." The priest looked at her carefully. "And it seems he is the only one of her year-mates that she is easy around," he paused, "I have come to speak to you about Kaoru."

"Is she causing difficulty?"

"No." He sighed. "And it is a rare child that doesn't at one point or another. It disturbs me, the Light in your daughter is very powerful. She is aware of it, which is fine. And she strives to achieve the True Light, which also understandable. But her eagerness is of the kind that makes me uneasy. There is a purpose there...a dark one."

Keria turned away, a shadow crossing her face.

"I, too, see what you speak of, Father. But she shows no interest in anything other than her training. It is my fault I believe," her voice was cold, which troubled the priest. She would not look at him. "I haven't handled her father's death well; it's been six year and I am not sure I handle it well even now. Maybe this grimness is something she learned from me." Still no feeling in her voice or in her eyes, but suddenly a smile grazed her lips, a bitter one. "She is not interested in games. Do you know that she doesn't know the rules of squares?"

"Have you tried to encourage her?"

Her silence was all the answer he needed.

* * *

><p>The priest left a while later. And he was feeling no less troubled than when he first arrived.<br>_  
>"I am due to the front lines in five weeks."<em>

Keria was leaving.  
><em><br>But what of Kaoru, daughter?_

How would the little girl take the news?

* * *

><p>With a smile as it happened.<p>

Kaoru stood with her year-mates, listening to Abirako.  
><em><br>My mother is gone._

For Kaoru it was reliving one of her nightmares.

Her mother had gone to the front lines, where her father had gone before her and never returned.

Even so, Kaoru said goodbye to her mother with a smile on her face.

She promised herself to be strong. Soon she will achieve her True Light and join her mother, and they would never have to say goodbye to each other ever again.

Kaoru was only eleven years old.

* * *

><p>"Children!" The word slammed into the four stone walls of the east field of the village. Abirako frowned in disgust as one of the children limped out of the drill circle. "All of you!" He drove the point of wooden sword into the packed dirt. Kaoru was surprised it didn't splinter even though the ground was "soft" in the lesson area. "Time and again you forget yourselves. You let words interfere with your abilities!" Not that he thought much of the ability, either.<p>

The child, Kredan, was in tears. His left leg pained him; he knew well from his four years with Abirako that it would already be purple and swollen. He felt the sympathy of his classmates as he bowed his head under the open blue of the sky.

"Well? What do you have to say for yourself?"

Kredan said nothing. He was a gentle child, who likes music and poetry, but times were hard.

The sting of Abirako's tongue was legendary—it hurt more than any injury the general might inflict.

Today he was worse than usual. Everyone knew why. He had spent the last three days standing honour guard at the ceremonies of departure.

He wants to be out on the front, but he's too valuable here. He may be the best warrior, but he's also the best instructor.

Kaoru grimaced; she bore her own set of bruises from the day's exercise, and Abirako's grim fury showed no sign of abating. She smiled wryly; compared to Abirako, the enemy was going to be utter joy and ease.

"You! Is there something amusing about this?"

Bright Lord, Kaoru prayed—her heart sinking rapidly.

"No sir."

"Good," He gestured. "Maybe you'd care to take your turn at the sword again."

_But I just did!_ Nonetheless she hefted her practice blade. Everyone in the class knew better than to question one of Abirako's orders, no matter how indirectly given. Kaoru had always learned quickly. She walked away from the safety of cobbled stone onto grass, and then onto the dirt of the drill circle itself, until she stood five feet away from the master.

"Stance." Abirako barked.

The word was irrelevant; Kaoru had fallen into proper stance the moment she'd lifted the sword. On occasion this would elicit an approving nod from the weaponsmaster—but not, it appeared, on this one.

She kept the stance, but Abirako had apparently forgotten her for the moment. The sun beat down on her; she thought her hair was burning, because he didn't allow the use of a sunhat. The padded jerkin and leggings that she wore didn't help either. But at least they were near white so they didn't absorb extra heat—as if that were possible.

"Today we start on the most important aspect of the warrior training." He glared at the class, waiting for some response. Everyone listened attentively, not wanting to interrupt Abirako's lecture with the extraneous questions he disliked so much.

It was a no-win day.

"I see that you all know well what it is from your lack of questions. Okita, since you were so hapless at arms, perhaps you can redeem yourself by explaining it to me."

Okita, whose body was a mass of bruises that day, wished, very briefly, that the enemy could arrange its attacks at a time when they had lessons. He let his head dip in guilt; the thought was in poor taste.

"No, sir.

"No?"

"I don't know what it is, sir." Kaoru pitied Okita. He was Abirako's favourite, but today no one was in the instructor's good grace.

"I see. Well then, perhaps Korallis."

"No, sir."

"Anyone?" He snorted in disgust. "Very well. Skill at arms is important in defence of the line. I shall take that as the given in the hopes that even one of you will attain some skill in the future." He lowered his weapon.

Kaoru relaxed slightly, but she still kept her stance.

"There will be times when this skill avails you nothing." He looked up for a moment, beyond their youthful heads, and closed his eyes—as much a sign of sorrow as he permitted himself. "The enemy may have greater numbers than our scouts could see. A Nightwalker may roam abroad among the corps of the Yamidarian fighters. You do know what a nightwalker is?" A child barely able to talk could answer that question, but Abirako's glare made it clear where he placed the intelligence of his students.

"A Servant of the Enemy," Korallis volunteered.

"True." Clearly Abirako was not impressed. "And why do you call them Nightwalkers?"

"Because they walk at night," a girl student broke in. "They can't walk during the day. And when they're walking, they're feeding on the death-pain and unwillingly given lifeblood of those that they kill. I hear it takes a long time for their victims to die, worse than in blood ceremonies of the Enemy."

"Well, it appears you can learn something after all. You had better listen to what I say now. You will learn this.

"Against such a power, you cannot prevail. Do you understand this? Only on two occasions have the Servants of the Enemy ever been caught by Noranen fire, and on each, they were feeding on the lifeblood of the taken. They will not feed among our warriors; the cost and risk is too high. Do not attempt to be heroic should you see or sense a nightwalker. Understood?"

Nods all around.

He closed his eyes again. Shook his head wearily.

"If you can escape, you are to do so. But if you cannot . . . that is what we begin to learn today."

He wheeled suddenly, lunging at Kaoru.

She blocked, dodging to the side as he had taught her; taking advantage of size and speed rather than brute strength.

This time, when he met her eyes, he nodded briefly. One never let one's guard down around Abirako. Never.

"Kaoru. You have some skill in blood-power. Call forth Light."

She frowned, an expression not lost on her master.

"You can call forth Light at your age, can't you?"

Bristling, she bent to put the sword down.

He attacked, the ferocity of the strike forcing a whistle from the breeze. She had enough time for a feeble block, but the impact tossed her off her feet. By luck alone, she managed to keep her grip on her sword.

"Again." But this time he began to circle her, his intent clear.

_This isn't fair!_ She watched him warily, her concentration on his attack alone. She had managed, over the years, to call light without the necessity of broad gestures, exchanging the width of full circle for the dance of two fingers. But she still had to clear her mind and think on it.

"Light, Kaoru. Now." On the last word, he swung.

She leaped lightly off the ground, avoiding the sweep of his left foot. Her blade forced his own to the side.

In anger, she returned his attack, desperately searching for an opening. Unlike Abirako, she was indirect in her attempts, dancing to the side and feinting, striking for lower thigh or upper shoulder cuts. He warded off each attack very coolly.

It was hard not to succumb to the same trap that had taken Kredan and Okita before him. She ignored his taunting command to summon forth power and poured her energy into thoughtful attack.

Then, out of nowhere, a brilliant Light flared in the quad. It took her by surprise; it was strong enough to be almost white. Human eyes could have seen it. She backed away to the periphery of the fighting circle, her sword at an awkward angle—but still in her hands.

A muted exclamation of surprise touched the air.

"You see, Kaoru. It can be done. You may rejoin the class."

Feeling humiliated, she put her sword away and stood stiffly behind most of her line-mates.

"This, this is what you must learn: the ability to use your blood-power when it appears that you are unable to concentrate. There is a risk; when fighting an opponent of greater skill, you will most certainly be killed."

Okita raised a hand; Abirako nodded.

"Then why take the risk, sir?"

Abirako smiled bitterly. "There are times when no risk is involved." He saw the quizzical looks on their faces as they watched him. He had seen it many times, on faces that now lay beneath the shallow earth.

"If you are taken, or captured. If you fall into the hands of the Yamidarians or the Nightwalkers."

Someone else raised a hand.

"You just said that we can't hope to win against a walker, sir."

"No. All you can hope for is a clean death."

Silence. Always this uneasy silence. Abirako dearly wished that his pupils were adult.

Clearing his throat, he continued.

"I will teach you how to summon a clean death for yourself if the need arises. You will feel no pain, or little of it, should any attempt to use you for the dark ceremonies. Nightwalkers, who like to torture their victims, will have little or no satisfaction should they personally destroy you; there will be no pain to feed on; no fear."

_May you learn this well, students. May you keep enough wit to use it._ Unbidden, his dead returned to haunt him, their faces frozen in the rictus of agony. _The Servants walk. You will learn._

"This is the warrior-gift. This is what all warriors must know."

Kaoru listened.

_But my mother is not a warrior._

* * *

><p>For two years Kaoru's mother had been helping at the front, she comes occasionally but and Kaoru always welcomed her with smile.<p>

Her mother's smile was empty. And with every visit, it grew emptier.

Kaoru trained harder.

* * *

><p>"Kaoru! Kaoru! I did it!" Kaoru straightened from the stance she was practicing. Her heart sank before Okita uttered the words.<p>

"I made my True Light!" Okita beamed, his brown hair swaying in the light breeze.

The smile that grazed Kaoru's lips would have fooled anyone but not Okita.

"I am happy for you."

Some of the Light that radiated from Okita dimmed. "I am sorry..."

"What are you apologizing for?" guilt gripped Kaoru.

_He is your friend, how could you do that to him? He only wishes to share his happiness with you._

"I know how much you desire to reach the Awakening, and join your..."

"I will reach it," Kaoru said firmly.

"I know," Okita smiled, "and there is still a month until my initiation ceremony."

Kaoru's blue eyes were shadowed. "Yes a month before you leave for the battle field."

He will leave her too.

* * *

><p>That is chapter 1 for you. Please be patient, once Kenshin meets Kaoru everything will be more interesting. And other RK characters will make an appearance including Hiko, Saitou and of course Enishi. Now before you roll your eyes let me tell you that Enishi will be evil but not the twisted sick evil, he is governed by his nature just like Kenshin.<p>

Please review and tell me what you think.

One last thing, anyone interested in becoming my beta?


	2. Chapter 2

Hullo, chapter 2 is up. Didn't take long, did I?

Thank you for your reviews, glad to see that many of you have not forgotten me.

Some notes:

-I hope you people did not think that by Sagara I meant Sano? No the Second Servant is Sagara, the handsome Sano's captain, Sano will appear but later.

-The second and third part I have borrowed from Mrs. West since I suck at describing scenery or secondary characters.

Now enjoy.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 2<strong>

Okita kicked a rock in a rare display of frustration.

A small smile tugged at the corner of Kaoru's lips. It was perhaps the first display of anger she had seen Okita exhibit since she had known him.

"I don't see why you get to go near the front lines while I get to stay here," he grumbled.

"Okita," Kaoru said for perhaps the tenth time that day, "it's not like I am going to fight, supplies must be provided for the front and the High Priest asked me if I would like to be part of the escort." She had not missed the implied reason behind allowing her to accompany the supply wagons.  
><em><br>Mother will be there._

"I understand," Okita said, still angry, "but I don't see why I don't get to accompany you, I have reached my true Light. I could act as a guard."

Kaoru reflected for a moment. His concern was the main reason for his anger and frustration, this she understood.

"The chances of us being attacked are slim, Okita. We won't stay at the front for long. Beside you have to prepare for your initiation."

"I know but I wish..."

_I know what you wish, Okita...  
><em>

But her wish was one that she woke up every morning for, one which she trained hard and prayed for.

_I wish to see my mother._

* * *

><p>"Well, Kaoru, you've certainly taken well to the travelling life." Yamato's fingers were tangled in the red-gold of his beard. His hair was pulled back in a high ponytail and bound with what looked like copper. At this time of day, it looked as if the sunset had reached through the trees to touch and colour him. "Where on Earth did you learn to pitch a tent so quickly?"<p>

Kaoru smiled almost shyly at the compliment. Rain and the unusual chill of the past four nights hadn't managed to dampen her spirit. She watched Yamato as he inspected her tent pegs; he'd done it every night since they'd left the village.

"Abirako," she answered, as she straightened out her bed roll, taking care to see that it rested against the oiled tarp and not the sodden ground.

"That's right. You mentioned that. "

She sighed. It was her first real hint that becoming adult didn't necessarily mean being adult. Okita would, no doubt, be something like Yamato. It could be worse; he could somehow grow up to be Abirako. The thought made her want to giggle—but not in front of adults.

"Well, I imagine you'll be happy enough when we arrive. Hillrock's a few hours away yet, but we should hit it by midday tomorrow. I hear your mother's out that way. "

She nodded, catching his momentary frown. Everyone seemed to react that way to the news that her mother was near the border. She couldn't understand it.

"Still, it's quiet enough now. The last attack may have cost us—but it cost the Enemy as well."

Kaoru nodded; it was something that everyone hoped for. But she didn't really believe it.

_The Darkness...I can feel it_.

* * *

><p>The road was rugged and hilly, twisting ever upward through dense thickets or scraping close under low-lying branches. The wagons, with their great wheels, had been built for it, though, and the horses seemed not to notice. Hillrock was aptly named, for it rested at the summit of a steady incline. Farms were there, but the ground was meant for mining, and the people of Hillrock split their time between these occupations.<p>

Before the caravan entered Hillrock they saw the first wave of people from the village. A group of children, too young to be useful in the fields, caught sight of the wagons and came running. Kaoru watched them from the cab of the wagon, noting the way that their clothing fit—or didn't; Hillrock was not on an easy route for Noria merchants, and clothing supplies were limited.

The children stopped about ten yards away; she could see the older ones craning to catch a glimpse of the wagons that followed hers. The little ones all shouted, waved frenetically, then turned heel and ran toward the farmhouses that were coming into view.

Yamato smiled broadly.

"This is why we fight, Kaoru," he said as he urged the horses on. "Don't forget it. No cause, no deep ideal, can possibly mean more than this." His face hardened. "And this," he added softly, "is what we stand to lose. But that part you'd do best not to remember." He caught the curious look on her face. "War is a mass of contradictions and carefully acknowledged truths."

Maybe, she thought, as the wagons rolled onward, Yamato was more of an adult than he first appeared. The brief pain that showed on his face was only the barest hint of what he had suddenly reminded himself of. Without thinking, she reached out and clutched one of the hands that held the reins. She felt a warmth swell briefly in her and flow out through her hands.

The tight grip relaxing was barely noticeable. But it was there, and it made her feel better.

As the fields came into sight, Kaoru sat forward in her seat, precariously balancing on her hands, her ravine ponytail swaying with the movement of the wagon.

"Back, Kaoru," Yamato said. But he smiled; she reminded him—for the first time—of his own young children, curiosity evident in every move she made. Not that she would be a child for much longer. He sighed, letting his glance stray from the road for a short while.

_There are so many of you that we cannot protect._

It was the hardest lesson of adulthood to accept. Even accepting it, no Noranen could dwell on it for long—leave that to the Servants of the Bright Lord.

The wagon rolled noisily into the village center, toward a series of large tents. It was obvious that they were not a permanent part of the village. They were gray, bearing the circle proudly atop their peaks, but they had also been decorated with ribbons of red and yellow—Hillrock's colours.

Kaoru's eyes widened.

"Yes." He nodded at the silvered circle on the tent flap. "But wait until we stop. You didn't come this far just to break an arm or leg."

She was so excited she didn't resent his comment, although it was obvious he was talking to her as if she were a young child. Instead she waited for the wheels of the wagon to grind to a halt.

Before that happened, the flap of the tent lifted and someone peered out. He disappeared too quickly to be identified, but Kaoru heard the happy shout that came from behind the cover of gray canvas.

She clambered down the side of the wagon, adjusting the hilt of her sword. For a brief moment she wished that she had waited until she'd achieved her True Wakening—she could see clearly just what her mother's silent expression would say.

Then she had no time to wish at all—her mother walked into the open. Kaoru's small feet nearly flew off the ground in her attempt to bridge the distance.

Keria had barely enough time to recognize the hurtling figure before it was around her. And then her eyes widened; she disentangled herself just long enough to free her arms, then scooped her daughter into them. Only the care that she took to make sure that Kaoru's sword hilt didn't jab into her spoke of her experience with the warriors.

_Later,_ Yamato thought, as he took a moment to watch them, _later you'll wonder what she's doing here._ But it was the now that warmed him. He'd been fighting for long enough to take joy in any reunion, however brief or unusual. It was the one thing that all hoped for and too many never saw; no one here could take it for granted.

_God, will this fighting never cease?_

* * *

><p>If one would observe Keria now, they would notice how her empty eyes filled, and how the lines of her face smoothed as she looked at her daughter.<p>

Only alone would Keria relax.

She watched her daughter sleep on one of the makeshift cots that had served the injured so well. It was obvious that she was one of Abirako's young—and eager—students; even in sleep she didn't let the sword stray from hand's reach.

But this sleep, untroubled and gentle, made of the sword something of a stuffed animal; Kaoru's hands curled around it and drew it in.

_Well, Kaoru, you may be a fine swordsman, but you are still a child._ The thought gave her comfort; it meant that among the faces of the wounded and dying that drifted through her life, Keria would not yet have to dread seeing Kaoru's. She felt guilty at the thought and wondered if all mothers of Noranen warriors felt thus when their children chose to take to the sword.

Very gently she leaned down and smoothed out Kaoru's hair. She hesitated, not wishing to wake her child. It had been years since she could sit so.

Nor would she have too much time to enjoy it; in a few hours she would have to see to the rationing of supplies and make sure that those who carried them knew their routes well enough to take alternates in case of trouble.

But then, reluctantly, she would have a few free weeks to go back with Kaoru.

Suddenly she remembered her own mother, the Lady of Kamiya Line, First Servant of the Light.

Now dead.

_It was from you, Lady, that I gained my power. _She sighed, letting rings of light cascade idly down her fingers.

_I used to think you so cold, so distant._ She cocked an ear, listened carefully, then turned back to her thoughts. _Maybe I didn't understand. Maybe distance is what you need if you have to live forever in this world._

Instead of distance, Keria had been forced to cultivate a peculiar numbness; to continue to heal the injured solely to send them, armed and ready, to the waiting fields. The deaths didn't hurt her as much now as they had when she'd lived at home. There, life was almost normal, and what you lost to war was so clear and so blindingly sharp. But here, amid the noise and pain, it was easy to forget that death was loss.

_Husband, she thought, was this the life you knew? Perhaps there is peace, not in dying, but in death.  
><em>

She leaned down once again, hovering over her daughter like shadow.

* * *

><p>"Keria."<p>

She looked up at the familiar face framed in its golden red. "I'm almost ready."

"You've been saying that for well over an hour now. You've got a few minutes more, but the last of the wagons is nearly loaded." He put an arm out and tapped her gently on the shoulder. "They'll survive well enough without you for a few weeks. They've done it before."

She nodded, a gesture that had no force behind it.

_They shouldn't have sent you out here without training you first._ Yamato frowned. It wasn't the first time he'd thought it. _The whole world is too large a burden for any of us to try to bear.  
><em>

Kaoru quietly carried what her mother had given her, slipping into the wagon she thought of as hers. Between bedrolls and supplies, she put down her mother's clothing. Maybe, if the Bright Lord smiled on her, she wouldn't have to watch her mother leave again. If she could somehow attain her True Light, she would be adult—she could go with her mother back to the front to fight in the cause of God. Everybody told her she'd be adult soon.

She straightened the bedrolls, calling Light to alleviate the darkness of the enclosed wagon.

* * *

><p>It was dark; in the years to follow, Kaoru would remember this clearly. Their camp fires burned cheerfully, lighting rock and leaves alike. They sat around them, playing with the images that each could find out of the burning of the wood. It was pleasant; a cool wind blew gently through the air, moving the low flicker of firelight as it pleased.<p>

She sat beside her mother, too old to huddle in the curve of her arms, but too young to need to sit at a distance to prove her age. Yamato and Trevor were there as well, resting their arms on their knees and conversing quietly.

All around the camp fires the wagons were huddled like walls, and between these, tents housed their weary travellers  
>"Keria."<p>

Her mother looked up, eyes drawn away from the fire that seemed to hypnotize her.

Yamato gave a tired smile. "To bed, I think."

"Bed?" She stretched, feeling almost idle. Leather chafed slightly at her arms, but it was a familiar feeling; no warrior went without armour except in the home of his Line. "I've not had this much sleep since . . . since . . ."

"Since the last time you travelled with me, I'll warrant." He stood, stretching his arms. "But you'll have it now, Kaoru."

She stood up before her mother did; four weeks of travelling with Yamato made his friendly tone impossible not to obey.

"Leaving me already?" Keria smiled wistfully. "You've grown so much. I'm not sure I should let you out of my—what was that?"

The smile that had warmed her face fell away, and Kaoru saw clearly for the first time how lean her mother had become. Firelight shadowed the hollows of her cheeks as she spun around, her head tilted upward.

"Keria?"

She stood thus a few moments as if listening, and then her face paled. Wheeling, she grabbed her daughter by the shoulders.

"Go," she said, her voice brooking no argument. "Not the tent. The second wagon. Go now. " _Not here, Bright Lord!_ Her daughter's face loomed before her like an accusation. 

_Not now!_

But power recognized power; this rule she understood clearly. And somehow—Bright Lord's blood, somehow—seventy miles from enemy lines, red-fire was burning.

Kaoru stumbled forward at the force of her mother's push. She righted herself and turned to see that her mother had already unsheathed the small sword she carried.

"Yamato, call the alarm!"

Yamato's sword already glinted in the darkness, his face the mirror of Keria's. He nodded, and the sharp bark of his voice filled the clearing. Nothing remained of the friendly, absent-minded driver that Kaoru had come to know so well.

_Red-fire,_ Keria thought. _The taint of the Dark Lord. _But it's strong—it's never been so strong before. Without thinking, she blooded her blade, her finger skimming along its edge. 

_Why is it so strong when they aren't among us yet?  
><em>

And then she knew.

"Kaoru!"

Kaoru had been watching in confusion. She fumbled with her sword a moment, her hands shaking. Her fingers would not cooperate for long enough to release the sword from the scabbard. In frustration, she called forth Light.

Nothing happened.

Biting her lip, she closed her eyes and began to concentrate.

Someone slapped her. Her eyes flew open and she saw her mother's face, white with either fury or fear.

"Go!"

This time she obeyed, her legs shaking even as they carried her into the covered wagon. Her mouth was dry as she shook her head; no words spilled out. She stumbled across the open ground, scraping her leg against a rock. The wagon was close.

_Hide._

She stumbled into the wagon and stopped, her knees bent against the wooden boards. In the darkness she could make out very little, but her hands told her where she was; spare bedding was kept here, and tents.

_Hide._

She scrambled beneath bedrolls, pulling them above her head. Her breath came in short, shallow gasps. God, something was very wrong.

She could smell the sweat of horses and hear them begin to trumpet the same panic that now gripped her. Her face was all but crushed into the wagon floor; the scent of aged wood clogged her nostrils.

Death—there was death in the clearing. And it would be her death, if she didn't stay very, very still. She tried to hold her breath and failed.

She was curled up as tightly as one her size could be—and for the first time in years, she felt her smallness and was glad. The Nornanen hearing that she had always been so proud of caught each supernatural crackle of red and white meeting in the air above the ground; she could hear the screams, the shouts, and the rasping clang of metal against metal. The hands, her hands, over her ears could not prevent that.

Worse, though, was the sudden silence that followed. And much worse, the muffled screams.

She felt she would never be free of the physical feel of fear: the way her heart drummed so loudly against her chest, and the way her breath cut in and out so sharply it hurt.

She grabbed a handful of bedding and tried to cram it into her ears, but her hands were numb and shaking. The screams—dear God, the screams—twisted into her body while she lay still and hidden, too paralyzed even to cry.

Then the screams stopped. She knew a moment of relief before they started again. She could not help but recognize whose throat they were torn from, no matter how distorted by pain the voice was.

And she could not move. She lay silent, writhing in darkness. There was the taste of blood in her mouth from where she had bitten through her lip.

_Bright Lord let it stop please let it stop!_

And then, for a moment, it did. There was a silence so total it was almost deafening. And Kaoru saw, for the very first time, the shadowy visage of Lady Death, with her long white hands and her ebony nails. It might have been delirium, it might have been vision, but whatever it was, it was clear.

It struck her like a dull sword.

Lady Death had come for her mother. And she, cowering Kaoru in the wagon, hoping—praying—not to be noticed, had done nothing, nothing at all, to prevent it. She was a warrior—she was warrior-trained . . . She was warrior trained.

Her mother was not.

What had Abirako said? _That the warrior, the true warrior, knew how to die. Die a clean death.  
><em>

Her fear sharpened unbearably and shifted.

Her mother was going to die if Lady Death couldn't be prevented from speaking her name, because Kaoru had done nothing. Her mother was going to die—her mother, no warrior.

The bedding toppled away as she jerked up, her hands finding the sword that Abirako had given to her. She stumbled over the disordered tents and bedrolls to reach the wagon's closed flap.

With a wild, incoherent shriek, Kaoru stumbled out of the wagon onto the dry grass, her loose hair stirring in the breeze. It was dark, Bright Lord—and the light wouldn't come.

But the moon glared balefully down until her eyes could clearly see the wreckage of her mother's body. Surrounding it there were four: three armoured figures and one—one . . .  
>"No!" she shrieked.<p>

They turned at once to see her. She stood, raised sword in hand, shaking with shame and fury. One of the four said something and stepped forward. He was pale and cloaked in a shadow that was stronger than night.

It was the first time in her life that she had seen a Servant of the Enemy. Nightwalker. He was tall, too tall, and ice seemed to form in the shadows he cast upon the still ground.

Not even the firelight touched his blackness.

Abirako's words echoed dimly in her mind.

_Against a Nightwalker of the Enemy you stand no chance. You are overmatched by the power of his Servants; if you see one, and it is walking—flee._

And it didn't matter. For the sake of her cowardice she had sacrificed her mother. Because of her fear she had lost, in a few moments, the one thing her life had centered around. What if the walker hurt her, made her scream, made her suffer what her mother had suffered? What if he chose to feed on her fear and pain; to play with her spirit in an endless game of agony while he slaked his endless hunger? She deserved it.

The Servant came forward as she stood, feet planted firmly on the ground, arm raised to strike. The Servants of both Lords were famed for their legendary beauty, Kaoru noticed, in the back of her turmoil-filled mind, how different this icy beauty from Sagara's warm looks. The dark robes the Servant was wearing made a sharp contrast to his silver hair.

He was beautiful.

Nonetheless, Kaoru knew what lied beneath that face.

Darkness.

This was only a guise.

"You are the last." His voice was cold and his eyes were so black that they appeared almost pupiless.

She did not reply.

Then she saw her mother's body or what was left of it.

_Mother..._her blue eyes widened and her face broke.

"We felt your power, little one. It is...was the strongest among them." He stepped closer still and lifted one hand. "It will never be used against us."

Kaoru screamed. The sound contained everything that words or tears could not.

_Mother..._

Defying Abirako's advice, she lunged at the tall figure of the Servant. He sidestepped easily, amused at this display of futile courage from this little creature.

The smirk that pulled his graceful lips upward was wiped off his face the next moment.

He screamed.

Kaoru, in desperation had traced the Sigel of the True Light in the air. This she had done many times in the past, with no result. But now, her sword discarded, White fire was called forth from between her outstretched arms.

It had missed the Servant by a fraction, but he had felt the brunt of it.

His black eyes flashed red.

"You dare, worthless creature," he stopped suddenly before a smile grazed his lips. Somehow it was more chilling than his anger. "You are the..." He moved closer to her.

Kaoru readied herself, preparing for another attack, but before she could move, she was surrounded by a nimbus of brilliant, glowing white. Her brown tunic, her pale leggings, seemed somehow transformed as the light flared like a wall.

The Servant jerked away.

He, then, forgot her presence, his attention was drawn to the newcomer—Servant as well, but of the Bright Lord.

Hiko, Third Servant, came into the clearing. As the Nightwalker wore his shadow, so Hiko wore his light; it was all the armour and all the weapon that he needed. His eyes were on the Servant only.

Two of the wagons were on their sides, their canvas torn and shredded. The horses were lumps that rested upon the ground in stillness and silence. And the Enemy's three followers, the Yamidarians, were there, dressed in like armour, covered in dark surcoats. The blood-shadows surrounded them; they had pulled their power from the dying and wore it well. Already some carried the items that the Noranen dead had worn, but these they dropped at once.

Hiko barely paused to survey the surroundings before the battle was joined anew.

"Enishi."

"Seijuro." The Dark Servant stood stiffly. The white-fire of Kaoru had left its mark.

They spoke no other words, but they had no need to. They were Servant of Light against Servant of Dark—an echo of the battles that had once existed before the birth of the world. What words were necessary?

Kaoru walked in a daze through her first battlefield. If any saw her at all, they didn't seem to pay her much attention, and she was hardly aware of them in her turn. One foot followed another in a seemingly endless path to the deserted corpse of her mother. Stories of the deformed corpses of the Nightwalkers filtered through her mind but she did not balk at the sight. She had to see and to memorize the exact price paid for her fear.

She had to swear, though no one would hear the blood-oath, that she would never, never pay that price again.

The broken body of Yamoto lied not many yards away from her mother's. Tears would not come, but she didn't deserve them. Let the sounds of renewed battle be her mother's farewell; Kaoru knew she didn't have the right to speak.

But she could not stop herself from caressing the still, torn face, or trying to embrace what was left.

If she was not so drowned in her sorrow she would have noticed that battle had stopped momentarily.

"Seijuro," the Second servant of the Enemy was saying, "you are outnumbered, the priests are fresh with the blood of the newly killed and I have just fed."

"Yet you are trembling where you stand, Second," was Hiko's reply.

The black eyes of the silver haired Servant strayed angrily to the girl kneeling before the remains of the other female.

"Still, you are outnumbered."

"Am I? Look closer."

Enishi was still for a moment. "Ah another one."

For a moment nothing seemed to happen, then Sagara of Noranen came into the clearing, followed by four warriors of the Light.

"Two against one, Enishi," Sagara said calmly, but his tone held sadness. He had not failed to see the price of Noria's hope. "It is time you join your Lord."

Enishi laughed.

"Think again, Sagara, do think I would venture this far into Noria unaccompanied?"

Out of nowhere darkness materialised and gave shape to a woman.

"The odds are even," Enishi said with smile.

As if resigned, both Servants of the Light dropped their fighting stances. Enishi's words were true.

Two Servants of the Light against Two of the Dark.

The woman strolled to stand beside Enishi. Her feet did not seem to touch the ground, and her pale face was devoid of any emotion.

Sagara's eyes travelled sadly to Kaoru.

_I would have fought to death to destroy them were you not here, little one. But I cannot risk it. I cannot risk _you_...the odds are even. _

If Kaoru was aware of her surroundings, she would have noted how beautiful the black haired woman was. She stood tall beside the Second Servant of the Dark, her black hair reflecting the rays of the moon.

But no one could mistake the shadows surrounding her.

"Sagara, Seijuro," her musical voice greeted them.

Enishi did not look at her, his eyes were on the half blood child. "Her life I claim," Enishi said, "I will destroy her Light...one day."

"Her Light is the future, Second," Sagara said, "our hope."

"You have dwelled so long among the mortals, Sagara, it shows. Hope is for children, for the foolish."

_For the desperate, _thought Sagara, _and Noria is desperate. _

"Her life is forfeited." With one last glance at Kaoru, he walked away, followed by the female Servant and the priests.

* * *

><p>Kaoru felt, rather than saw, Sagara's approach. She heard his words, Servant-sure and calm, echo in the emptiness that was left her.<p>

"Come, child. This is no place for you. You are safe now."

She turned to him, eyes glinting like steel, knowing—hoping—that she would never be safe again.

"She's dead."

He watched her still, pale face, his eyes darkening. "Yes," he said, bowing to the inevitable. He reached out for her with one hand. "Come, little one. There is nothing to fear, not any longer. You are safe."

"I'm not afraid of dying," she replied, limply following where he led. "And I never will be again."

Sagara's arm encircled her shoulders; she felt the faint pulse of his power ebbing into her and yanked herself away to continue walking with him at more of a distance.

"Child . . ."

She turned only once, to look again upon the body of the woman who had given so much to the warriors on the fields of battles such as this one.

"It should have been me." Her voice was ash.

Sagara said nothing, and once again she felt his power come into her to try to soothe the loss she felt.

But it was all she had left and she would not release it.

* * *

><p>"Sagara."<p>

The second Servant tore his away from the fire and looked at Hiko.

"Tell me," Hiko said.

They had camped few miles away from the death scene. And now Seijuro and Sagara sat alone near the camp fire.

Sagara's eyes strayed to where the small form of the fourteen years old child slept in an unnatural sleep. She had refused the comfort of his Light but sleep he had forced on her.

She lay on a bedroll they retrieved from the wagons. The other supplies were kept too, and so were the personal items of the victims of the Nightwalker. They would be sent to their families.

All but one.

Kaoru lay on her side, her small hands curled by her wet cheeks. The tears she had refused to shed when awake, came unbidden in sleep. In slumber she appeared the child she was, so unlike the hardened girl she had chose to be. Sagara's eyes lingered on her curled hands for a moment. They were torn and blistered.

She had buried all the dead in the clearing.

Alone.

She wouldn't let them help her.

"Hiko," Sagara said, "what if you knew that there was only one hope to end this eternal war? What would you give up for that hope?"

Hiko did not reply immediately. "You know that it has been a human century since I took interest in this war. Yet tonight, the child's Light called me. _Me_, a Servant of the Light."

Sagara refused to change the subject. "Hiko, what would you give?"

"Anything. This, I suppose, should be the answer," the word hung tautly between them, and he stiffened as if feeling its significance truly for the first time.

"And what if you knew that that hope was no certainty, that you were grasping at a slim chance that you could not control? What would you give up then?"

This time he did not answer. Instead he stared across at the Second.

"And what if you knew all this, but knew also that to speak of it fully would doom the hope?"

Sagara could see questions that he longed to ask still swirled in the other eyes chaotically, barely contained.

"Many would want to take that hope if that was all they are given. At any price." Hiko answered finally.

Sagara took a deep breath and released it shakily, thinking of Keria. Thinking of the manner of the death she had gone to, untrained.

"This is not your doing, Sagara," Hiko said, "this foretelling of hope, is not yours."

Sagara nodded.

"The first Servant of the Light, Lady Kamiya, died fourteen years ago, not, I hear, by the Enemy," Hiko said. After a moment he added, "she died the day Kaoru was born."

"Ah Kaoru, a child with a great burden."

"What has the Lady done?" Hiko asked persistently.

"She had parted the Veils of time," came the honest answer, "she had a glimpse of the future."

Hiko was silent for a while. "The cost..."

"It had cost her so much, but knowing the Lady, I know she would pay it ten times more for Noria's hope."

Yes it was so much like the Lady. "What had she seen?"

Sagara shook his head. "Even I was not told. But the Lady made it clear that on Kaoru's shoulders rested the burden and made me promise to continue protecting her until she reached her True Light."

Silence stretched for a while as both thought of the circumstances that forced Kaoru to reach her Light.

"You know more," Hiko said, not looking at the Second.

Sagara nodded. "Not much, but more," he paused, "this, the Lady told me; little Kaoru must walk the road between Dark and Light. And she, of the Light, must take that path, knowing that light casts its shadows, and that they lie at times in places that no eyes can see.

"She could not speak of what she had seen, but she had seen this: that Kaoru, and she alone of all the lines, may one day pull from the darkness a lasting light. If the Bright Lord has a hope, it is this: the end of the war that destroys so many, blooded and gray.

"And thus she named her Noria's Hope."

The silence this time was filled with sorrow.

"She is only a mortal," Hiko said.

"Yes, but we must have faith in Lady Kamiya."

"Why had she died?" the question was one Hiko had wanted to know the answer for, for the last fourteen years.

If it was possible, the blackness of despair would have shrouded the features of Sagara, Second of the Light.

The answer, when it came, was worse than what Hiko expected.

"To hide Kaoru's presence from the First servant of the Enemy, Battousai."

The name alone seemed to invoke a deep darkness.

Hiko said gravely; "she had awakened."

"Yes," Sagara closed his eyes.

_He will come. _

_Bright Lord help us._

* * *

><p>Yes Kenshin is coming! Next chapter he will meet Kaoru. There will be a 2 or 3 years time-leap so don't worry he won't meet the child Kaoru.<p>

.


	3. Chapter 3

Hello again. Chapter 3 is up. And I have some comments:

-Please don't credit me the creating of the world in this story. Noria empire and Yamidaria are based on some of the empires in Michelle's books. I have changed the setting and the rules, but the idea of the servants and light against dark is hers. Just want to make that's clear.

-For this chapter I want you to remember that there are practically three races in this story. Noranen, Yamidarians and lastly the nonblooded, who are just humans. They are called nonblooded because they posses no blood from either of the Servants. Noria's Light and Yamidarians' red fire could not harm the humans. Relatively, Noranen and Yamidarians live longer because of the immortal blood they have, but it had been diluted through many generations.

-The Servants of Darkness, namely Kenshin, consider the people of the blood tainted and holds them with disdain.

Enjoy this chapter, the end is the best part.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 3:<strong>

The news about Kaoru's mother reached the village days before their arrival.

Okita was waiting for her in the house she used to share with her mother. It was near dawn before he heard someone approaching. Okita was weary.

Kaoru had left as a child. She would now return as a warrior, an adult.

_And her mother...Bright Lord, her mother._

"Kaoru?" he whispered as he moved hesitantly to the other room, holding a lamp aloft.

Lights touched the ceiling and flickered there as Kaoru stood by the entranceway.

"I've reached my Light, Okita," Kaoru said in a voice barely recognizable to Okita. "I'm an adult now."

It was not way he had imagined she would say it.

The lamp was deposited on the stairs as Okita took two steps forward.

Kaoru stepped back.

"I'm sorry, the journey was long," she did not meet his eyes, "I am sorry you had to wait, please excuse me."

"Kaoru..." Okita whispered.

She only shook her head and went quickly upstairs.

* * *

><p>The next morning a ceremony of departure was performed to those lost to the Nightwalkers attack. The circle of the vaulted Great Hall was full. Adults stood on all sides, wearing their grays and their blacks and their sorrow equally. Okita stood beside Kaoru and cried all the tears that he knew she would not.<p>

Kaoru stood in the front of the gathering. People made way for her, their expressions a mingling of bitter grief and sympathy.

Keria was given the warrior's departure; her coffin was surrounded by warrior-priests, arms held at ready.

Abikaro had asked Kaoru if she would like to stand. She had refused. If she had not had the strength to stand by her mother when her mother was alive, she had no right to stand by her corpse in any position of honour.

The High Priest presided over this departure, as he had done over all. But the words that were spoken by him flitted by Kaoru's ears without ever touching them. Everything was a dim, gray blur.

She approached the coffin once and looked at what remained of her mother in cold, stiff silence.

_I will never forget you._

She did not touch the body.

After the ceremony many people, some that she recognized vaguely and some that she knew well, came up to her to offer her their sympathy. They couldn't know that each word they spoke cut her sharply.

Only the Okita seemed to understand, and for this one thing, Kaoru was grateful.

* * *

><p>"Kaoru." Okita wiped his hands with a white rag although they'd been dry since the fourth time he'd done it.<p>

Kaoru continued to wash the plate, each movement of the rag slow and methodical. Her eyes, wide and glassy, stared into the cooling water.

Okita wondered what she saw there. For many years they had known each other, they grew together. Not one day in all that time had prepared Okita for this silence, the wall of it cold and hard. Some warriors would have been proud of the stoic Noranen spirit that Kaoru showed. Okita hated it. Since she returned two weeks ago, she had shown him nothing else. They both waited for the initiation ceremony that would send them to the front lines.

He sensed that to Kaoru, the initiation ceremony could not come soon enough.

"Kaoru?"

"Yes, Okita?"

"If we've finished here, I think old Mai could use our help setting up in the circle for tomorrow." He placed the rag on the table.

"I—I have a lot of studying to do."

She always said so, as if he wasn't her age and knew what studying and training they had to do.

_Why hasn't she cried?_ Okita shook his head in worry. _It isn't natural_. Then again, by all accounts neither was her mother's death.

He shook her head again. Soon he would go to the front lines and see for himself. What mattered now was bringing back his old friend, if it was possible.

"Study can wait. Abikaro won't be training today and old Mai is not as young as she used to be and could use the help."

They both knew it wasn't strictly true, but Kaoru nodded listlessly. She removed her apron and set it aside on a chair.

* * *

><p>The circle was quiet at that time, the flagpoles naked in the evening breeze. Okita approached Mai's stall and set the boards up so he could greet the old woman. Kaoru trailed behind, a quiet ghost. Even her feet made no sound.<p>

The old woman regarded her with eyes that bellied her age.

"Young lad, I need your help here," she said, "and you Kaoru, why don't you set the flag to fly?"

Kaoru looked mostly confused as Okita deposited the carefully curled flag into her vacant arms. "Now?"

"I am here," old Mai replied. "Might as well let people know it."

Kaoru looked around. "But you've nothing to sell."

"Kaoru, when you came three years ago, I'd nothing left to sell either. Times are hard"

Kaoru swallowed. "Oh, Mai—" Her eyes glimmered for a moment and Okita held his breath. Then Kaoru shook herself and bolted to the pole, her ravine ponytail flying behind her.

It had been close.

* * *

><p>The ropes and pulleys of the pole were stiff; if not for Abikaro's training, Kaoru doubted she'd have had the strength to put up the flag on her own. She carefully tied the flag into place and, once she was sure it was secured, began to pull for all she was worth.<p>

She stopped when something began to tug at her dress. The flag was at half height.

A young child, fist attached to her robes, looked up at her. "Is that old Mai's?"

"Yes," Kaoru said quietly.

"I've got something to show her." The young boy looked at his stomach. He had pale, gold hair that was already browning at the roots. His clothing, bright blue and red, marked him as the smith's son.

"What is that?" Without thinking, Kaoru lowered herself until their eyes were level. Talking with a child was better than thinking about her mother.

For a moment the boy looked suspicious. Then he nodded as if to himself and opened up his shirt. Curled against his ivory stomach was a small kitten, fast asleep.

"I got it off Kerris's mom," the boy whispered. "She says it's part of old Mag's litter. Says there were five." His brow puckered. "Don't know how five fit into old Mag's stomach."

The little white ball of fur shifted suddenly and the boy gritted his teeth. Between them he hissed, "He does it all the time. These little ones got claws."

Kaoru nodded slowly.

"You all right?"

"Yes." Her lips hardly moved.

Very gingerly, he shifted the kitten between his hands and held it out. "You want to hold him?"

"Could I?"

He nodded. "You're okay. Adaru is stupid; he almost strangled it. But you'll be fine." There was a world of trust in those words.

Kaoru took the kitten. It was warm and soft; it moved as she began to scratch its ears. It had a little, rough tongue that darted hesitantly out.

"He's pretty, isn't he?"

Kaoru nodded.

"Hey!" The voice was high. "Are you all right?"

She nodded dumbly. Then she began to cry. She lifted the kitten, felt its claws scrape her cheeks, and felt its tongue take her tears.

She heard the boy's footsteps, heard him shouting for old Mai, and heard Okita's low mumble—words that didn't mean anything to her. She didn't know why she was crying, but she held the kitten that much closer.

Hours later, Okita took her home. Kaoru leaned into her friend's shoulder in silence. She didn't speak about her mother's death, and he didn't ask, but they both felt better for the visit to the circle.

And very often, when Kaoru was tired or frightened or lonely, she returned to the circle, looking for the smith's son and his friends. And in time they came, to show her things and share with her their little secrets and complaints. And their trust grew to mean a lot to her, because she trusted herself so little.

It did not occur to her that, in human reckoning, she was a child too.

* * *

><p>Although Kaoru was acknowledged from that point on as adult, it was a full month before she was granted the robes of her office at the ceremony of initiation.<p>

Sagara, Second of the Light, visited her a day before the ceremony.

Kaoru was in the house of her mother, checking her pack for perhaps the tenth time that day.

"Child."

Kaoru turned to him.

No surprise was written on her face as she stared as his bright form by the door. Sagara was aware of the sensory changes that came with the Awakening. All Noranen had, by nature of blood, better hearing or sight than the nonblooded; it came from the parentage of Servants of the Bright Lord. Of all the people of Noria, Kaoru, as a result of the vast amount of power she harboured, should see the farthest and with the best degree of certainty; and she could hear even the most subtle of sounds.

"Lord," she smiled. And even though her smile was small, Sagara was relieved to feel a sense of peace about her which had not been there the last time he saw her.

It was a fragile peace, but it would do for now.

Sagara stepped into the house, his tall frame emitting light across the sparsely lit room. "You leave for the front tomorrow." It was not a question.

Kaoru tensed, sensing the underlying meaning of his words. "You don't think I am ready."

The smile that grazed Sagara's lips was sad. "No one is ever ready for war, child."

"I am not a child," Kaoru said. Her words were stubborn but spoken softly.

Sagar stopped then, closing his eyes again. _How much can I tell you, child?_ For Kaoru was, truly, a child in the eyes of the eldest.

"Starting tomorrow your life will change. Can you not feel it? The changes about you."

Kaoru understood what he meant. He was referring to her sight and hearing.

"Yes," she said and Sagara could see a question rising.

"But?"

"But I am different," Kaoru said in hesitant voice, "Okita's senses has sharpened since his wakening too but not to the same degree, I see and hear furtherthan all my year mates, and," she stopped suddenly, "and I can see the surprise in Abikaro's eyes." and few things in this world could surprise her instructor.

"Kaoru," he moved closer and held her hands. His were warm and hers were shaking. "You are special," he led her to a chair and made get sit, but he remained standing. "You don't need anyone to tell you thus. But with great powers comes great responsibility, you will face great hardships."

"I know."

He shook his head ruefully.

"You will see death, child, and more; your gift, your talent, is the talent of your mother. You are a healer by birth and warrior by choice, but it is the healer that will often dominate. When you fight on the field, you will fight two battles: the one against the enemy, and the other against your need to ease the pain that will surround you."

At that time Kaoru did not comprehend, but her gift would be the cause of great victory and great sorrow.

"And because of your abilities all the responsibility of the field will be yours. Your friend and line-mate must remain with his unit, but you will belong to all. You will go where you are needed and will lend your power to all of your kin."

Confusion appeared on Kaoru's young face. "I am told I will join Abikaro's unit."

"You will until you are ready."

Kaoru nodded. Silent filled the small living room and it was Kaoru who broke it first.

"Lord, I am scared," she whispered, and her words took the Second by surprise. But before he could reply she continued, and if possible her next words shocked him more.

"I am scared that I won't live up to the hopes Noria and the Light," her eyes did not meet his, but were fixed down on her hands. "I know I am, of all the warriors in Noria, given this power for a reason, and I am scared to fail them. To fail you."

_I wish I could tell you, child, I wish I could tell you for what you are burdened with powers that are almost equal to mine, but the details elude me, Lady Kamiya had not shared all she knew. _

Sagara knelt by the chair and placed one hand on hers. "You will become the strongest single force that the Enemy would have to deal with. This I know."

Her blue eyes widened at this, but she nodded immediately.

"Kaoru, there is something I must say, something I heard from the First Lady of the Light."

Kaoru frowned. "Lady Kamiya?" She of course had never met the First of the Bright Lord. Lady Kamiya died fourteen years ago.

"Yes, she once told me: nothing is unalloyed. In everyone, even you, child, there is hatred, chaos, and some small measure of darkness. And likewise, the Yamidarians have their love, their order, and their light. It is peculiar and dim; it does not affect the whole—but never doubt that it is there. Try to see this when you walk in darkness. Try to forgive it, though you walk with light. "

There was some confusion in her eyes, but Kaoru said firmly. "I will prove true to my heritage."

"Yes, child, you will."

_To the very end._

* * *

><p>On the day of Kaoru's departure, many of the village children Kaoru had befriended came to say goodbye. They had grown attached to her in the last few weeks and it was reflected on the way they clung to her and wept. They were loath to let her go. Her touch had made their wounds heal, and made the injuries of their pets disappear.<p>

Kaoru smiled gently and weaved peace around them, hugging them one by one and promising that she will see them again.

That promise she could not keep.

* * *

><p>Kaoru lay back against her bedroll, forcefully massaging her sword arm. Dawn was hours away. She was tired—no, exhausted—but she'd gotten thoroughly accustomed to that state during her one year at the front. She'd almost gotten used to four small walls of canvas, to rain, heat, and insects as well.<p>

The thin flap of canvas couldn't block out Abikaro's angry shouting. It was a wonder that at the end of day he had the voice left to berate the newer fighters. She smiled, remembering her own first days under his command. But the smile was half wince; many of his words still had the power to sting over time—even at a year distance.

The next few weeks looked to be peaceful ones—at least as peaceful as the front ever got.

She rolled over onto her stomach, letting the ache of the day settle into her back.

In a year, they had lost about thirty miles and gained back ten. In a year, the Second travelled out to the front another three times to stand against powers assembled that were too great for the half-blooded. And it wasn't enough.

_Stop it_, Kaoru, she told herself firmly.

Twice the unit had been forced to retreat, and only due to Abikaro's harsh and complete authority had the unit survived. It was only two battles, compared to any number won—but Abikaro had the highest success rate of anyone fighting on the front.

She closed her eyes.

_The field is not the place to grieve for the dead._

But all of the dead returned to her. Yesterday she alone had prepared fifteen bodies, and each of the fifteen had been comrades. Ten were newly ranked. But two had been experienced warriors; it had been a vicious, bloody fight. The bodies would return to the holdings now that the battle was over, and there the living could mourn and mark their passage into the beyond. Kaoru tried to think instead of the lives that she had managed to save with her healing skill—a skill that had been trained to its height.

And now she had to leave.

Leave Okita.

Kaoru dreaded the day they would bring her friend a cold, white corpse. So far the injuries he sustained were shallow and would have healed without her helped.

_What if he is gravely wounded while I am gone?_

Kaoru shook her head frantically. This, she refused to even consider.

She sighed, Lord Sagara has warned her about this, but she never expected it would be this hard.

And Okita wasn't fairing any better. He had become gloomy in the last few days since her summons to the western frontlines arrived.

Even wrapped up in the shadows of such musing, she still did not fail to hear a lone horse as it approached the encampment.

Her hand was on her sword before she found her feet. She rolled out of her tent lightly, as she had no time to armour up, and began to move toward Abikaro's when she saw him emerge from it. He nodded at her, noting the readiness with which she approached him.

"I heard it as well," he replied, his own blade readied.

In a matter of minutes, so did everyone else that was there.

Kaoru heard the challenge of the watch, as the horse stopped its frenzied pace a moment. She also heard the watch let the rider by, and she relaxed—as much as she ever did.

Only when she saw for herself the shining circle upon gray surcoat did she sheathe her weapon.

The man looked vaguely familiar, his markings were of Cormont, the line that had the troops to spare to send to the south front.

When the horse came to a stop in front of Abikaro's tent, the man nearly fell off. Kaoru stepped forward immediately to steady him, letting a hint of her power out to ease his exhaustion.

"Captain," he said, inclining his head sharply—the salute of a near equal.

Abikaro returned it. "What news?" he asked grimly, ignoring the formality of rank and name.

The man handed Abikaro a sealed scroll.

Abikaro didn't read it immediately; he didn't need to.

"Shura!"

His second in command came apparently out of nowhere.

"Ready the unit; we're to march south tonight." He closed his eyes. "Have the initiates bury our dead before we leave; they won't be going home."

She nodded briskly and left to carry out his orders.

"Kaoru, see to the horse; find water and food for the messenger." He eyed the man's uniform and nodded. "Must you carry our reply ahead of the unit?"

"No."

"Rest, then. We march in two hours."

Kaoru nodded briskly and turned away shaking; no one in Noria's force could fail to recognize the seal that she had just caught a glimpse of.

* * *

><p>All told, there were sixty able-bodied people who could respond to the urgent request of Sayo, the Fourth Servant of the Light.<p>

It would be the first time for Kaoru to meet a female Servant of the Bright Lord. Female Servants did not usually fight, their empathic nature made it hard for them.

Times had changed.

Noria was desperate.

The messenger did not seem surprised that the number was low; it was not, perhaps, the numbers that he was counting on, but the persons themselves. One in particular, who, despite being only fifteen, was gaining a reputation in the battlefield. Abikaro was near-legendary. But Kaoru was something else.

Abikaro did not address his warriors, but this was common; he was accustomed to leading, and they were accustomed to trust that lead. Their lives depended on it.

Unlike warriors outside of the circle, however, they had the freedom to speak about it if words didn't interrupt their duty.

"Which part of the front do we march to?" Okita asked as he ducked below an overlying branch.

Kaoru was silent.

"Kaoru?"

"I'm still thinking."

She caught Okita's nod out of the corner of one eye.

_Where was the Lady?_

"Ermon Valley," she said at length. "I think we're going to Beryon."

"Isn't the Fourth there?"

She looked up; occasionally Okita could still surprise her. "Yes."

"It's bad, then."

"Okita, we'd hardly be on a forced march if it weren't." But the friendly exasperation that usually marked her conversations with Okita was missing.

It was the first time that either of them could remember a Servant sending for help.

Ermon Valley was a good twenty-seven miles away by the straightest path, and Abikaro pushed them all, setting a pace that they could follow at some cost. Words drifted away into silence and the occasional snap of dry twig beneath booted foot.

Ahead and behind Kaoru could see the faint blue glow that each line-member carried instead of a torch; the power of blood to light the path that must be travelled. She had seen it many times, but it never failed to strengthen her. Sixty people, each carrying an emblem of the Bright Lord and His Servants that nothing but Lady Death herself could dim, marched on toward morning.

They stopped once, taking no more than an hour to massage their legs and refresh themselves. Many of the unit insisted that they were fit to carry on, Kaoru among them. But it was Abikaro's command, and no one seriously considered disobeying it.

Still, it was obvious that Abikaro was worried; he was grim and silent, instead of grim and verbal. His mood lent an edge to his followers; and when they at last moved on, they, too, walked in the cloud of silence.

When they stopped for a second time, Abikaro called for Kaoru and Shura. Okita touched Kaoru's shoulder quickly as she left the ranks, and she caught his hand in a firm grip.

"I'll be okay," she whispered.

"You'd better."

She walked away to join her instructor and his second.

Abikaro nodded. "Do you hear anything?"

She shook her head.

"Good. How far have we travelled?"

"Twenty-six miles, sir." She thought for a moment. "And some hundred yards."

He smiled briefly. 'Very good. Lady Sayo has been fighting alongside three of our units and two of Beryon's, these past three days.

"Losses to our people have been high, but losses to the Yamidarians higher still."

Kaoru nodded; this was common enough on a field where either side rarely retreated.

"Yesterday, word came to her that a larger group—composed primarily of the nonblooded—were coming to Beryon to aid the Yamidarians"

The nonblooded. The familiar anger that she felt at this momentarily rippled across her face. How could the nonblooded join the enemy ranks? Was it not for their sake that so much of this fighting took place? And worse, far worse, the Noranen effectiveness against the nonblooded was poor unless excessive amounts of power could be called.

"The Lady believes that they will be led by the high priest of the Enemy with a number of his Swords. She has called in Tara's unit and Shorla's unit as well. We may not have arrived in good time.

"Be back in an hour and a half. If you aren't, we'll move on in defensive formation."

She nodded.

"If the numbers are too large, we will retreat."

She nodded again.

"Shura?"

"Ready as well, sir." She saluted, although a salute was, strictly speaking, unnecessary, Shura never failed to produce one.

They both took off.

Kaoru had been sent to scout before. Sometimes with Okita as backup, but more recently with Shura.

Kaoru was good at it.

She could move nearly silently; when she was at her best, Abikaro swore that only a Servant could possibly detect her presence—and then, by blood-power alone. It wasn't true, and they both knew it, but Kaoru treasured the compliment. It was one of maybe three that she had received from her captain.

Ahead, the forest waited to give them the cover they would need. Kaoru listened for a moment and then began to walk toward it, her feet no longer making the firm, hard step of the march. Indeed, to those watching her progress into darkness, it seemed that she must be almost dancing just a hair's breadth above the ground, her movements were that sure and that silent.

Shura followed a few feet behind, walking just as swiftly as Kaoru did, but much less gracefully. Both women kept their swords sheathed.

Nor did either speak. By signals that they had worked out before their first mission together, they allowed the other to know where they intended to move, how far and how fast. These signals—the way a hand brushed a shoulder or touched a cheek or arm—were second nature to them, and they moved quickly and confidently forward.

Only when the ground began to slope downward did Kaoru pause; they were at the peak of the valley now. Ermon Valley, or Beryon's valley as it had once been called, was the final resting place of an army, remembered in children's stories and in bardic verse.

Shura tapped her shoulder twice in quick succession; Kaoru signalled a stop. She tilted her head to one side, listening. Leaves rustled by; a breeze blew through shadowed trees. Ahead a small stream trickled past. Crickets, frogs, and the occasional dart of feet too small to be dangerous added their rhythm to the night.

But beyond these comforting sounds, something else moved. Something . . .

Kaoru shook her head, touching Shura's open palm with two fingers, then three. Shura nodded and they began to make their way down.

Ermon's Valley lay in wait.

She could almost hear the sounding of the horns, as described by the bards, and the charge of foot soldiers making their desperate last stand because they had nowhere to retreat. She could almost hear the whistle of the archers, and the twang of greatbows releasing a hail of arrows; could almost hear the clash of metal against metal, and the screams of the dying.

The clash and the screams . . .

She stopped suddenly in her tracks. Shura was good enough that she could mirror Kaoru's quick reaction. She pulled up, touched Kaoru's shoulder, and knew that it was shaking. But although she listened, she could not hear what Kaoru heard.

Trembling, Kaoru moved forward. Every step she took brought the noise closer.

Maybe, she thought, it's just imagination. Maybe I've been thinking on Beryon Valley too long.

Then Shura stopped, and Kaoru felt three fingertips across the back of her neck. Not imagination, no.

She nodded grimly.

_Go back?_ Shura's fingers signalled.

_Not yet,_ Kaoru's replied. _Numbers._

She picked up her pace, knowing that she would lose the silence that she was known for, but knowing that it wouldn't make any difference.

Shura stopped only once more, and Kaoru waited as the older woman strung her bow and pulled an arrow from her quiver. Then they advanced again, seeking the source of the growing sound, moving this time with more caution toward those that might see than those that might hear.

They quickly reached the outer edge of the valley and, through the last of the trees, saw what they most feared seeing.

Ermon Field was on fire—and no normal fire, either.

Some five feet from the last of the trees, they knelt with their eyes above tall brush that tickled their cheeks. Neither noticed.

Backs of warriors lined the edge of the gray rocky fields that stretched out for some miles. Some were wounded; Kaoru feared mortally so from the quantity of blood. Links of chain showed through torn strips of gray—and glinting in blue light, Kaoru could see the circles.

It was obvious that they were fighting a defensive battle, but Kaoru couldn't name the position.

The attackers wore uniforms that Kaoru was also familiar with: the black of the Swords of Yamidari. Limned in red, they moved forward, striking their way into the retreating wall of Noranen.

_Numbers?_ Shura signaled.

They were high. At best guess, Kaoru thought three hundred, maybe three hundred and twenty-five, at least two to one in enemy favour.

She considered the odds carefully and started to turn toward Shura when a flash of light caught her attention.

Not blue light, this, but white. She heard a chorus of screams, and for an instant saw the banner of Ermon unit outlined in the glow.

That light heralded the presence of Sayo of Noria, caught in the midst of enemy soldiers.

The import of greater numbers fell away as Kaoru responded to the call of the blood, light against the darkness. Raising her own arms high, she summoned almost all of her personal power. It shot upward in a flare of light that sent a ripple through the enemy, so bright was its call. It almost matched Lady Sayo's light.

Shura caught her arm as the last of the power left her. "What have you done? Our unit can't hope to win against these numbers. You've cut off a safe retreat!"

"What choice do we have?" Kaoru shouted over the clashing of swords and the crackle of magic. "Lady Sayo is cornered on the field!" In a single, clean motion she was on her feet, blade out and readied.

Shura released her and unsheathed her own sword. There was nothing to be gained now in argument—Abikaro would see the Light and he would know what it meant; he would lead the unit to the battle without further delay. She opened her mouth to order Kaoru to stay, then clamped it shut before the words had started to form.

_Blood-call. Light-call. Damn you, Kaoru._ Later she might remember how little choice the inexperienced had against a Light Servant's call—if she survived. Her sword came out as she watched Kaoru.

Already the power that had not gone into the flare gathered round the younger woman like a mantle. Shura had seen the flare—it was more than she herself could have called. And Kaoru still had the power to cloak herself so. The older woman shook her head.

Shura followed Kaoru onto the field, leaving the sparse shield wall of tangled growth and shadow behind her.

Kaoru raised her sword and ran to join Shorla's unit.

"Noria!" she cried, in a voice so loud that it might have been the call of the horns.

She fought like one frenzied. She had always been known for her speed, but no one, not even Abikaro, could have predicted just how devastating that speed could be.

Light flashed anew on the field, the Fourth's call. Kaoru began to cut a path toward it. She felt the way her sword swept cleanly through living—and dying—flesh, felt the pain that she caused come echoing to the part of her that was healer and not warrior. It was not as strong as the urgency that drove her to try to reach Light.

She whirled around to see those fighting by her side continue their retreat and she almost snarled.

"Lady!" she shouted, whirling her blade.

She heard another voice bark an order, and the unit continued to retreat.

She could not.

_No warrior, no matter how good, can face five to one odds. And the good warrior values prudence._

Her thought, but Abikaro's words, as she saw Norians pull further back. She took a step toward them without dropping her defence, and Sayo's light flared again.

This time she could see the angry crackle of red that followed it.

The field seemed to melt away. She could see the Lady clearly; her brown hair matted with blood, she was bleeding from multiple wounds but still stood erect, facing her true adversaries: five men, dressed not in armour, but long, black robes, red arms stretched toward the Servant. The Lady's delicate form was surrounded by White Light and her tired green eyes shone.

She knew she should follow the defensive line of retreat. She knew it, but could not do it. Abikaro's voice faded into the whisper of an unimportant past as she raised her blade anew. Light danced down it, swirling in the marks of its maker and the blood of her enemies.

And she fought as she had never fought, stumbling over stones and bodies alike, the landscape unfamiliar. Fought as Sayo's light grew weaker, and weaker again. Fought as the sea of enemy troops, with their faint taint of darkness, closed in around her.

Here she learned the truth of Abikaro's words. The light armour she wore was no match for the blades that struck against her body, leaving their signature in her flesh. As soon as one man fell, another stepped in to take his place.

She cried out once in fury as the light of the Lady—the light of Noria—burned into the night sky. And once, in pain, as steel found her forearm. Her blade fell away from her as she dropped to her knees, automatically clutching the nearly severed limb.

Frantically she brought forth her power to try to still the bleeding, but even as the blue warmth touched her, she felt the point of a sword enter her back.

In agony, she staggered forward; saw another sword raised to strike.

_No!_

_No!_

_Bright Lord!_

The name echoed in her mind as she called it. Power flowed into her, a power so sudden and so brilliant, that even the nonblooded could see it.

The second sword never found its mark.

The pain within her retreated like a wave on the shore of her body. In its place came a gentle warmth that would not be denied. She opened her eyes and struggled to her knees even as the feeling built.

_Bright Lord_. She shut her eyes as the wound that marred her body began to close.

Her eyes snapped open as she stood once again, reborn in the fires of God, mortality overshadowed by the Light.

She could sense the presence of her unit as the ragged retreat of Shorla's unit suddenly halted. Such was the strength of her contact with God, that she could wake the sleeping fires in even the weakest of the Noria, where Sayo's power alone could not.

She called upon the white-fire, and it swept across the field like a wave, bringing succour to the Norians, and pain—or death—to the Yamidarians.

It wasn't enough. Over the screams she could hear the shouts of surprise melt into shouts of determination. The nonblooded were, indeed, upon the field of battle. They could see her power; they could feel the fan of warmth the Light provided—but it couldn't burn at a darkness that was not part of their blood.

Still she retrieved her sword and walked forward, wielding it as a brand of Light. It swung without hesitation, leaving an afterimage where it cut through the air.

An arrow struck her, and she removed it even as the wound began to close. Shorla's unit surged forward behind the path she had cut. She nodded and forgot them; at this moment there were only two things on the field that she was fully aware of: the Lady and the priests. And Sayo's light was waning beneath the storm of red.

"Lady!" Kaoru cried, and Sayo turned.

Her robes were red, the circle that adorned them only a broken line. Something struck her, and she staggered.

"Noria!" she shouted, but her voice was weak. Her light flared again, surrounding her body like a halo, or a shroud.

Kaoru began to run forward. The Lady fell to one knee, righted herself, and looked across at Kaoru, green eyes dimming in the ragged scars of her face.

"No!"

Even as she shouted, she saw the Lady's form begin to alter. She knew she couldn't reach her in time—all the power in the world couldn't give her that skill. And she knew the ward Sayo made with God; it was the same, measure for measure, as the one she herself had made.

But Sayo was not a healer; apart from the deceased Lady Kamiya, no servant possessed healing powers. The power that she called now could not be used to save her.

The power that gathered in her fallen body burned away what little life remained; and for an instant, no more, Sayo was as the First: an imperfect vessel for pure Light.

"Noria!" she cried anew.

And the very land rose up in response, breaking beneath the feet of the nonblooded to form the perfect grave.

Kaoru drew upon her own power then, drew it and aimed it outward at the priests. She was shaking with anger, and the anger gave her purpose; if her powers could not save the Lady, she could at least make the priests of the Enemy pay for this loss.

Her fire stretched out across the sky, a lethal, gleaming bridge.

It left her empty.

But that was enough to hear the screaming; enough to see the red wards splinter like glass beneath the sudden onslaught of the Bright Lord.

And when she finally turned away, the field was no longer a field—but it was silent.

Abikaro's unit arrived a few minutes later, to walk carefully across the newly turned earth, clearing away what little of the enemy force remained.

It was Abikaro himself who found his scout as she knelt beside the lifeless body of the Fourth of the Light. She had done what she could to lay her out in a semblance of rest or sleep, with grass as a pallet, stones as a pillow.

"Kaoru," he said, and she looked up. "There is still work to do yet; this is not the time for tears."

She shook her head, unable to stop them.

"What better time?" she asked, the warmth of tears sliding hopelessly down her cheeks. "I—"

"At the ceremony." His voice was grim. "If at all."

Shura came to stand beside him.

"I won't be back for the ceremonies." Kaoru's hand gripped Sayo's more tightly. "This is all the good-bye I get."

"Then do not waste it weeping. The Lady died a good death." He looked out at the field, saw the bodies, half buried in the teeth of the ground, broken by rock and rubble. "And she made our enemies pay."

Okita seemed to appear out of nowhere; he knelt beside Kaoru and slipped an awkward arm around her shoulder.

"Kaoru?"

She shook her head. "I tried. I tried, but I couldn't save her. I had so much power, Okita." She looked down at her hands. "I had so much power. But it wasn't enough."

Shura whispered something to Abikaro, and he looked down at Kaoru again, his expression softer.

"I see," he whispered back to his second. He shook his head and turned away. He remembered what Sagara had once told him, he remembered the amount of raw power that Kaoru could contain, and use, without destroying herself.

"The call of the blood, then." He turned back to Kaoru and touched her almost gently on the shoulder. "We assemble the units in an hour, Kaoru. Meet us then."

She didn't hear him, but Okita nodded quietly. Abikaro left them there together; he knew that Okita wouldn't be parted from his line-mate.

* * *

><p>The dead were buried and given a haste ceremony in the open air of the field.<p>

Ermon's Valley became the grave of two armies.

The next day Kaoru left for the West frontier, where the battle was most fierce. She said her goodbyes but to Okita and Abikaro she gave no easy farewell.

Two years passed, and Kaoru proved Sagara right. She became the single most powerful warrior the enemy ever faced.

Still it wasn't enough.

The Darkness was spreading.

* * *

><p>The sounds of screaming filtered out into the cold stone halls and shattered against the beamed arches of the ceiling.<p>

The priest frowned a moment and then schooled his face more carefully. _How long will this go on? _He turned, an impatient swirl of red-tinted black, and crossed his arms.

He did not speak aloud, however, or touch the closed door that stopped him from carrying his message to his Lord. He doubted whether God Himself would dare to interrupt the First of His Servants when he was feeding.

The screams stopped abruptly, but it gave the priest no hope; he could surmise, from their tenor, that they would begin again in a few minutes when the Lord was ready to resume.

Annoyed, he stalked down the hall to glance out of the one large window there. Beyond it, the city lay shadowed, and the moon was high. His reflection came back at him, the narrowed point of his jaw convoluted by colourless glass.

At least two hours had passed. Were the moon full, he might be able to make a better estimate; but were it full, his Lord would be more available.

Screams.

He walked back to the door, his hands clenching and unclenching. There was nowhere to sit, something the priest felt ambivalent about. Were there a chair, he might be tempted to take it.

No one sat in the presence of the First of Yamidari, not in his private quarters.

To still his annoyance, he caught the strangled web of screams and folded them into private fantasy. Although he knew well that the victim was one of the villagers they had taken two months ago, he spun a picture of a different body dying so slowly under the Servant's hunger—the new Light Warrior of God-cursed Noria.

If it were possible, he could almost regret the death of Lady Kamiya, the First of the Light. Even the Lady had not the effect the young woman managed to achieve.

Who could possibly imagine that the trait of healing, a lowly and insipid use of true power, could have such an effect? He almost reached for the report again, before he stilled his hands. He had verified the numbers himself.

_It is the non-blooded among us._

For where the other warriors had routed the non-blooded who served with the Yamidarians, the girl used a different—and unpredictable—approach. She did not use her granted power to destroy or kill but rather to heal. _To heal!_

He looked down at his fists and forced his hands to relax.

Because of the girl, many of the humans' soldiers left the army. This was natural, although the priests and Swords made sure that any who were caught served God in one way when they would not serve Him properly on the field. What was unnatural was that they often chose treason instead of flight. They served her.

And she accepted them, although the Noranen had never before employed the non-blooded in their battles.

Another advantage lost.

He had not, himself, seen her on the field and was grateful for it; too many of the Yamudarians perished at her touch. This at least he understood; the white-fire ate away at the glory of the red. But still, some stories were circulating about some of her appearances on the field. After the victory, she usually wandered among the fallen, healing those that had dared to raise arms against her. Healing her enemies! And while the Swords and the priests could be counted on to see this as the infirmity that it was, it had a different effect on some of the non-blooded.

He wanted to spit, but refrained from doing so.

The screams showed no signs of abating, and he continued to wait.

* * *

><p>The night was dark, not even the silvery light of moon marred the blackness.<p>

It was glorious.

The First of the Dark stood by the open window of his highest tower room in his palace and looked down at the prostrated figure before him. He walked slowly towards him, his feet made no sound on the floor. He raised one booted foot and pressed it on the nape of the man's neck, pushing his face nearer to the stone floor.

"You dare to interrupt me."

"At your order, Lord." The man said. "I have ridden these past three weeks with news." He was wearing red robes, indicating his status as a priest. Only one of those dared to interrupt the First.

"And it could not wait?"

"If you wish it, although you asked that I report in person when I arrived."

"I see." He removed his foot and walked to the window. "You may rise."

The priest rose with as much dignity as he could master.

"The information?" The First, who was sometimes called Battousai said as he turned to stare at the red robed priest.

The priest wished he was kneeling again. Anything to escape the scrutiny of those golden eyes, which made a disturbing contrast to the red of the First's hair.

The high priest bowed instead. "The news is not mine; I was not present for it."

Kenshin narrowed his eyes dangerously. He did not like the tone that the priest chose to use. "And?"

"The army in the east is gone."

"Gone?" He crossed the room. Shadow curled around his silent feet. "Gone?"

The priest nodded. He had elected to present this news to the First Servant; too many of the priests had been destroyed in the last year as it was.

"How?"

"That girl of Kamiya Line took to the field, Stanthos's division made the mistake of wounding her fatally in some way that allowed her to touch the Bright Lord.

"Shortly after this, the command structure of the army was destroyed."

"White-fire."

The high priest nodded.

"The nonblooded?"

"They broke, for the most part. But again, we lost a number to the Norians, and not through their deaths."

"And our Swords cannot deal with one who is nearly a child?"

"It is an unusual case, my Lord. While the cursed girl does not choose to use the Bright Lord's power on the field proper, she will call it when mortal injury is done to her."

"This is unprecedented." Kenshin was angry.

"No, Lord. We have tried to make sense of it, with little luck. The Noranen are strange. But she is one of the healers of the line; they are few. The last one died some years ago—but you will recall that the Servant Enishi was sent against her. "

"Yes." He turned and looked out across his empire "Dismissed," he said, but softly.

The high priest did not linger; like any of the Yamidarians, he had no desire to remain in the presence of one whose power was greater than his own. He bowed and went out quickly.

"It has been long," the Servant said, his amber eyes flashed.

"Long." He raised one arm and shadow swirled around it like a dark mist. His skin grayed and paled until he no longer wore the semblance of a mortal. Amber eyes flashed in a face that knew no life.

"Lady Kamiya" he whispered. "First of the Light." The darkness about him grew blacker still. "At the expense of your own life, you tried to hide her from me, this vessel of the Bright Lord's power."

His power filled the room until no light existed within it at all. For a moment he could see the void again, the darkness of the all that existed before the coming of the world. And he could see Lady Kamiya, cloaked in a light that matched his darkness, calling a power that matched his power.

"We were well matched then. But you have squandered much for the tainted.

"I will take to the field against the girl-child.

"I will break her, Lady, and she will join you in the beyond. Only your full power had any chance against all that I can summon, and you chose to waste it for the sake of a mortal."

And then he began to concentrate, calling his power to search the continent for this girl. It was not easy; the Noranen had their own methods of guarding against this detection. Nor would his answer be quickly gained; but to the Servants, even the least of them, time was of no concern.

* * *

><p>What a long chapter! I am sorry that Kenshin and Kaoru did not meet as promised but the chapter was very long.<p>

Next chapter, the story will truly begin.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Under the night sky, Kaoru lay sleeping on a thin bed in the rooms built onto the small village temple. Sleeping peacefully, perhaps for the last time, in the small village called Colmen that she had made her home when the road didn't force her to march. It was closer than her own village and nearer to the front, as Kaoru had explained to the High priest on one of her rare visits home.

Farther from her childhood.

And she wanted to understand the humans by living among them as one of their own. The sleeping girl had told Okita the last time she had seen him. It had been two months ago.

Neither knew it was their last meeting in Noria.

For death was walking toward Kaoru,

If Okita was there he would see doom clearly fixed above Colmen. He would see the fires starting, their red glow forcing screams from dying bodies. He would see his year mate, Kaoru, torn from sleep in the middle of the night, sword already in hand as she leaped to answer the call of war in an unexpected place. No time here for gathering her raven strands; her hair swung about her wild eyes like a dark net.

And clearly, so clearly, the distance would have made no difference at all, he would have seen the enemy that Kaoru could not see: the First of Dark Lord, walking as he had walked the skies in the past, cloaked in the thick, immutable darkness of the beginning.

But Okita was not there.

Kaoru faced death alone.

* * *

><p><em>Sorata, you can't be dead.<em> But the peculiar stillness of the blistered chest beneath her hands told her otherwise. Denial dissolved as her fingers searched his neck for a pulse and found nothing but slackness and silence. Around her the clamour and clash of fighting tried to catch her attention. The screams of the dying told her firmly that he was only one among many, and the number would grow before the hour was out.

"Sorata." She shook her head, a wavering smile already dying on her lips. "Can't you wait for your ability to catch up to your courage?"

He was the first of the nonblooded –the humans- that she had befriended on the field of battle; he had carried the enemy banner into the field with no true idea of how to protect it. He was young, perhaps that was why she had saved him; his age in his terms had been no different from her own when she had first encountered the wars. But she had been with friends, fighting for a cause that she believed in with absolute certainty. He had not had those comforts.

Kaoru was seventeen years old.

But the truth was that she hadn't had any choice. Sagara's warning hadn't been given without cause, and Sorata's near-worship of her was given solely because she hadn't her mother's, self-control.

"_You are a healer by birth and warrior by choice, but it is the healer that will often dominate. When you fight on the field, you will fight two battles: the one against the enemy, and the other against your need to ease the pain that will surround you."_

She shook her head as the red outline of empty buildings at the nearest edge of the village grew brighter. Shadows criss-crossed the trampled grass; swords rose and fell. These grew fewer with each passing moment.

She had tried, after the day of healing, to tell him that she wasn't going to serve as the cause for a boy's death; had even gone so far as to criticize his technique—a generous term—in battle. But his eyes had followed her, perhaps the same way hers had once followed Abikaro, and she found herself unable to get rid of him. And so he had stayed, no matter where the war took her. And now . . .

"You just can't wait, can you?"

She imagined the grave lines of his face folding into an embarrassed blush at the tone of her voice, the way Okita's once had. Imagined it, but not strongly enough to erase the look of hurt surprise that tightened his frozen lips. There was so much she wanted to say.

Instead she bent over him almost protectively and closed his eyelids with the tips of her fingers. She kissed his forehead, tasting the salt of tears that had splashed his brow.

In the distance she imagined the low thread of a familiar voice. _"There is no place for tears on the battlefield. After all is over, you may mourn in pride—but never show that weakness to the enemy."_

_Abikaro, can you never leave me alone? Perhaps it's true for the Noranen—but the nonblooded, no. Let me mourn, damn you, as I see fit._

"_No, Kaoru. The enemy understands suffering. They know that they've caused it and are satisfied."_

_Does it matter what you think?_ Kaoru thought.

She could see Abikaro's stiff, brittle frown. Not that it mattered; he was dead these many months and only his words remained with her, a gift from her very first battle upon attaining her rank.

He was dead.

If the war had permitted, she would have gone to his ceremony and stood guard by his coffin, as he had stood by so many others. But perhaps it was better this way; his death was still just a story, and he lived in some way within her.

_It doesn't matter anyway, Abikaro. The battle is over._ Her tears continued to fall, mingling with the blood and soot that marred her white cheeks.

Already the sounds of metal against metal had faded; the smoke that lingered from the fire-strike wafted wayward in the strong breeze, obscuring the corpses of Yamidarian and human alike. It billowed like a ghost in a night punctuated by the glare of red flames.

The village had fallen.

She was weary. Loss of blood and the endless stream of Light that she had called forth had taken a heavy toll. She stood, forcing her knees not to buckle beneath her, almost giddy with apprehension and her tired blue eyes glanced around slowly, seeing death everywhere. There had been Yamidarian here, and in great numbers, but her blood was stronger than theirs—her own power should have been able to hold or drive them back in time to evacuate the village. She had done it countless times before. For two years she had not lost a single battle and had saved countless lives with her power alone.

No. It was not the Yamidarian that had buckled her shields, allowing the enemy free passage, and not the Yamidarian alone that had slaughtered so many of her people.

_I should have been watching. I should have felt something_. She shook her head bitterly. _This isn't the first time they've struck so far within our lines. Damn, I should know it's never safe!_

She straightened her clothing and looked around quickly this time. Her armour was lost; there had been no time or help to don it. Never mind. Word must be sent, and quickly.

A Servant of the Dark walked the lands.

She was bitterly thankful for the fact that she was almost exhausted—only the depletion of her blood-power allowed her to walk away from the pain of the dying villagers.

Swaying, she turned her back on the fire and began to walk toward the forest, knowing it would be easy to lose pursuit there if she could make it. She was dizzy, and twice stumbled as her booted legs rebelled against carrying her weight that far. Gritting her teeth she moved forward, listening for any sound from behind. Nothing but distant screams; no footsteps, no shouts. The soft unevenness of turned earth gave way to forest—she had reached the first line of trees. She stopped to brace herself against a maple, faced away from the village.

_I'm sorry. I know I've deserted you, but the lines must have word of this. The Second must have a chance to meet this threat. Please, please forgive me_. Rough, old bark scraped against the back of her neck. Time to start moving in a darkness that she dared not alleviate with Noranen light.

Twenty feet of tree cover was behind her when she halted abruptly.

In the shadowed light that breached the leaves a figure had emerged. It stood very still, dark against darkness. A cold finger traced Kaoru's spine, and she snapped her hands upward, tracing the Sigil of the True Light, a shield of blue Light appeared before her. The black outline of hands moved languidly in the air, mirroring her gestures and mocking them with a ward of their own. Her teeth clamped down as she repeated the gesture, her hands and body tense with a concentration that was almost physical. The tingle at the base of her spine eased slightly, but she could still feel it. She gave ground slowly, stepping back as a foreign power pushed at her defense.

"You are very powerful." The voice was casual. "I can almost feel your Light."

She did not waste the energy or concentration necessary to respond.

"Woman? Ah, no. I see that you are just a child. " Light, the voice, and mocking. It told her that he knew full well who she was. "Girl, then. I am not feeding," the Servants were at their weakest when they were at the act of feeding, "and I am therefore not open to any of your little Light. I suggest that you stop wasting energy on them; if you do not, you will not last for long. And that would be a pity."

Only her hands moved. Every bit of a reserve that she did not know she had fuelled the gestures. _You may be powerful, but I've noticed that you aren't breaching the ward_.

An edge slipped into the velvet of the voice. "Very well. I grow quite bored of this."

At his words, Kaoru threw the last of her flagging strength into the Greater Ward. She thought that she had long since recovered from her inability to draw a true one, but she suddenly knew that she had never wanted to touch the power of the Lord so badly.

Her opponent stepped forward, then staggered back with a soft curse. A small, tight smile caught Kaoru's lips. It vanished as her enemy gestured in a single, sweeping motion, one too wide, too deep and somehow contemptuous. A red-fire flared in the darkness, crackling through Kaoru's barriers as if they were kindling. A tongue of flame swirled round her, unable to quite reach her pale skin. It didn't matter; Kaoru screamed in agony, and the colour of her pain was red. She dropped to the ground, her body curling in on itself. Let the fire touch her, and she would call forth the power of her God, like in the battle of Ermon Valley two years ago. But the Nightwalker had heard of the power she could summon if she was mortally wounded so the scalding red fire didn't touch her; it lingered so close to her skin that it was almost clothing, but it did not push further.

_The pain, Bright Lord help me, the pain..._

But she was alone.

"Come, little half human. The time for defiance is long over."

Hands pulled Kaoru's head up by the hair.

"Ah, it is you. I felt your power seventeen years ago when you were born. I would have killed you then and spared my people the losses you have had caused but the Lady hid you, sacrificing herself for...what?" his merciless golden eyes roamed over her pained face, "I don't know," he tightened his hold on Kaoru's raven hair, "your power is great. But it is nothing, nothing compared to what I can summon, girl."

Kaoru made no response, her exhausted sapphire eyes held his.

"Can you not stand?" He shook her sharply, but she remained limp. Exhaustion held her immobile. "A lesson, girl. One should never overextend one's abilities in battle. As you shall see, it bodes ill for survival."

Strong hands pulled her to her feet and kept her there. Slowly they turned her until she faced the village. It was almost more than she could bear.

"Walk."

She was shoved forward. Her feet took a hesitant, automatic step before she crumpled. Again she was lifted.

"Your value as amusement is diminishing. If I have to carry you to the village, you will pay for the effort before you die."

Kaoru said nothing. She closed her eyes, drawing deep, even breaths. She was very cold. A Servant walked her lands; she was powerless to stop his progress; she could get no word out; and in a short while she would be dead.

Just like how her mother had died.

The Servant carried her back to the village. The noise of fading screams grew louder; the smell of burning wood and flesh clogged her nostrils and mouth. Involuntarily her eyes fluttered open to see what they had not seen since she had taken the field: loss in war.

"You are conscious. Impressive. You!"

A figure separated from a crowd of armoured men that had clustered in front of the ruins of the mayor's home. It had once been grand—the only two-level home in the village. Now it was no more than broken glass and charred wood—an empty shell. The man who approached wore the red and black surcoat of the blooded—one of the Swords. His face shone with the glisten of sweat and blood, his eyes with feral triumph. He gave a low bow.

"Tend to her. She is the Noranen that has caused so much trouble with our borders. Bring her to the center of the village when the other survivors have been gathered."

Kaoru was set down on shaky feet. Resolute, she met the eyes of the Yamidarian, not flinching at the predatory glint that she saw in them. This was the way of war, and the death that warriors had faced from the dawn of time. He smiled and grabbed her, the grip of mailed fingers bruising her arm.

"And Damar—she is mine. Tell the others. "

The light in the eyes of the Yamidarian guttered at the chill in the Servant's words. He nodded briskly and began to drag Kaoru along what was left of the village road. She walked with as much dignity as she could muster—in this, at least, she showed herself to be Abikaro's pupil.

* * *

><p>But she could not help but see the caved-in sides of the small homes that the elderly chose to live in; the peaked wooden fences that lay in pieces against the winding dirt road; the empty, silent streets. The tiny market circle of Colmen was just ahead. The Sword turned off abruptly before they reached it. But she could see the flagpoles—wood, these, not steel—as they lay splintered on the ground, and she could see the bodies beneath them.<p>

With little ceremony she was thrown into a dark, crowded hut. Takashi's home, close as it was to the market circle. She wondered if the old man was still alive.

The door slammed shut behind her, although there was no longer any lock to secure it with. She leaned against the wall, allowing her eyes to accustom themselves to the gloom. Slowly the outline of huddled bodies made itself visible. The stench didn't take nearly as long. Her throat was dry and tight; it caught as she gagged slightly.

_I don't have the power for this._

But it wasn't quite true. What she didn't have was the power to deny pain. She stumbled forward, her hands already outstretched and shaking. Beneath her fingers she felt the wrinkled visage of an old man. He groaned.

The voice was not Takashi's; it was Gordan's. There was fear in it, but little strength.

"Shhh. It is Kaoru. I will try to help you."

The man's tension eased as Kaoru sent a small part off herself outward to gather his pain. She cried out then, all of her body writhing with the sudden contact that swamped her—but her hand remained in place, unmoved by the other's agony.

From out of the darkness, another voice spoke up. It was hoarse. "Kaoru. We thought you dead."

"Not yet. "

"It would have gone easier for you; you would have been spared much. There is a Nightwalker here."

"I know. But maybe it is better this way. I can ease your pain before the end." Weakly she withdrew her hand from the old man's face. She did not allow herself to think on the extent of his injuries; instead she concentrated on sleep, and as the last tendril of his thought merged with hers, he drifted off.

She moved on, her hand cupping the cheek of a young girl. The child did not move when Kaoru touched her, although Kaoru knew her to be awake. Gritting her teeth, she pushed herself outward. The physical injuries the child had suffered were minimal. Kaoru calmed the pain of them easily, but the girl did not even react. Shuddering, Kaoru brought her other hand up.

_No,_ she thought_. I am already too tired._

Shaking the thought away, she steeled herself and merged with the girl's mind, praying for the strength she did not feel she had.

At first she felt only the darkness of oblivion. To one less experienced it might have passed for sleep. But Kaoru had been a healer for years, the brightest of her number. For her the black she encountered was a hard, icy barrier, devoid of the nebulous currents of sleep patterns—catatonia.

She travelled along the seamless wall, looking for some crack, some chink of light, that held the identity of the child. The search yielded nothing; no part of the girl faced the real world.

"Kaoru."

Shaky hands touched her shoulder, pulling Kaoru momentarily out of her link. "Yes?"

"Leave her. It will do her no good to be awakened."

"What do you mean? "

"She's suffered much for a child of her age. If you bring her back to the world, she will only suffer that much more. I've seen the state before; in other circumstances yours might be a worthy endeavour. But not here, not now."

"But—"

"There are others you may be able to help more.

"I can't just leave her like this, she's—"

"She's somewhere where pain doesn't touch her. Not all of us are so lucky. "

_Lucky?_ Kaoru thought bitterly. Words rose, but she caught them in her throat and held them there. Dully she acknowledged that what she was doing might indeed be just another form of cruelty. "Maybe you're right."

A rasping sigh answered her, and she reached toward it almost eagerly. Her hands fumbled blindly in the air before lighting on an arm.

Contact. Almost automatically she flowed outward, with less energy than before. Heat rose in her palms and travelled to her fingertips, where it rested between her skin and her patient's. It left her with a jolt, drunk in greedily by the demands of a body's pain. Twinning around broken ribs, it formed a cocoon that radiated gentle light, visible only to Kaoru's eyes. She let the contact fade and turned, already stumbling toward another person.

A small voice in her mind told her to lie down and acknowledge defeat. But she was too close to those surrounding her, and their pain jerked her to her feet and called her to their injuries.

In all there were thirty people in the hut, some ten of them minorly injured. Of the remaining twenty, fifteen had been hurt in ways that time and rest might heal, and five were already dead, but had not yet acknowledged the fact. Kaoru touched all of them, absorbing their pain and returning an unnatural calm in its place. She did not ask how they had come by their injuries, and no one volunteered the information; they sheltered it the way one shelters a secret that words alone cannot describe.

When she had finished, she curled up in the corner of the hut farthest from the door, her body pressed against the many that lay on the packed dirt floor. Sleep took her then, and she welcomed the gray neutrality of its touch. She had done all that she possibly could.

* * *

><p>She was not allowed to sleep for long, but the few hours she did rest refreshed her; she found she could stand and walk easily enough when she was forced to do so by the armed Swords that entered the hut. One by one the surviving villagers were paraded out; those that could not walk were dragged. Kaoru gritted her teeth at the sight of them, but said nothing. Flanked by two guards, she came out into the near-moonless night.<p>

They were taken to what remained of the village circle. Once the center of judgment, joining, and artisans' displays, it was surrounded on all sides by gutted buildings and corpses left for carrion. Small torches ringed the square, held by people intent on the upcoming spectacle.

One thing stood out in the bleak landscape, a richly upholstered chair with an engraved back and thick arms. In that chair the Servant sat, watching the arrival. Now, in the light of the torches, Kaoru could see his face clearly. Like the other Servants, he was disturbingly handsome, more so because his beautiful face hid such ugliness inside. But what bothered her mostly were his eyes. They were not black like the two dark Servants she had met when she was thirteen. But golden and flashing as if his whole power were contained inside them. And his hair was the colour of blood.

What she could also see was the faint glow of wards surrounding him; she knew that none of Noranen's fire would touch him this night. Worse still, the power that it cost him to maintain those protections would be replenished by the people she had failed.

That failure weighed heavily on her. Any success she had won upon the field the last two years seemed to dissipate. She had failed, as she had always done when it was most important.

_Mother..._

Two of the villagers died before they could be brought forward; their bodies were thrown to the side. The others were pressed together in front of the Servant. Kaoru came through to stand at their head.

The Nightwalker smiled.

"Little warrior. I see your captivity agrees with you. Do come a little closer,"

"You can see well enough where you are."

The Servant's smile grew broader.

"As you will, daughter of Noria. Swords, kill one of them."

"Any particular one?"

"Any but the Nouranen female."

"No!" Kaoru started forward and a guard cut her short with a shield block. She staggered back as one of the villagers was pulled from the crowd by four men. In the scant light, Kaoru could see the taut face of a young woman. Her lips were set against her mouth almost ferociously; no pleas for mercy would escape them if her will held out. Each of her limbs was secured by one of the guards; she struggled futilely, still maintaining her silence.

"A good choice." A new voice entered the square as a man in dark robes stepped between the guards that ringed it. He nodded at someone—Kaoru could not tell whom—and a Sword entered the square holding a gold-leafed box. With consummate care the box was opened, and the man in dark robes lifted something out of it. He held it high, and his eyes found Kaoru's. She saw the glint of red in them and paled.

With a very formal bow he said, "I am Takeo, Bishop of Yamidari. You've troubled us, woman; you've gathered debts that must be paid."

Kaoru tried to push forward and again ran into a shield.

"Attend to this, if it will not be too much trouble." He brought a hand up and slid it gracefully along the jagged edge of the knife that Kaoru now knew he carried. She could not see it clearly, but memory supplied detail—it was perhaps seven inches of toothed steel, with an irregularly shaped obsidian handle.

Takeo turned toward his intended sacrifice, paused, and pivoted neatly on one foot.

"Oh, and woman?"

Kaoru met his eyes.

"Something for you to think on in case the entertainment is not enough for you." Deftly, and with surprising speed, he raised his arm and pointed. Kaoru managed to dodge in time to catch a flare of red with only her shoulder. She bit back a cry as she brought her hands up, too late to ward. She fell on one knee, clutching her shoulder.

"Takeo, you go too far. " The Servant leaned slightly forward in his chair, blood-red strands caressing his cheeks and his hands clenching the armrests.

"Really, Battousai? A pity. I'd forgotten your claim." Without waiting for a reply, he turned back to the business of his God. He nodded to the Swords. He was a Bishop of Yamidari's church, second only to the High Priest. His respect and reverence was for the church only, he owed Battousai nothing.

Or so he thought.

"I think you may start by breaking her legs." Takeo's cold voice was eager.

In a very short time the silence was shattered by the low, hoarse sound of sustained screams. The priest watched as his men worked, his red eyes a gleam of his God's love of pain.

Kaoru tensed visibly when the screaming began. She rose to her feet and for a moment she was shrouded by darkness, her legs folded beneath her shaking body under the cover of bedrolls, the smell of horses in her nostrils. The cries that rent the air were familiar ones. This death was familiar. Her throat closed, she felt an old fear begin to paralyze her.

_No. I am adult now. I am not what I was!_

The ache of tension was solid; she let it bind her to the present. She watched the man set to guard her as he, in turn, observed Yamidari's ceremony. A sheen of sweat touched his face, and it grew pale. He was not Yamidarian, then; against him Kaoru's weakened white-fire would have no effect. It was not easy to bide her time. _The screams. _Her fingernails cut small crescents into the palms of her hands. But the waiting had its effect; the guard blanched at last and looked away. Kaoru caught one glimpse of his face as he turned, enough to wonder at the profession he had chosen and the God that he served. Then her hand lashed out, followed quickly by a sharp strike from her leg. The man toppled with a surprised grunt. She did not wait for reprisals; instead she lunged for the group of Swords that surrounded the Bishop and his chosen victim. Both of her hands shot out, connecting with the unhelmed heads of two Yamidarian; they fell back, reeling at the unexpected strength of her blow. The priest whirled to face her; his knife glistened wet and black in the poor light like a little tendril of the shadow.

She did not stop to think; she raised her hands and called on the white-fire. It exploded outward over what remained of the girl, detailing her ravaged features in an incandescent flash. The priest and his Swords cried out, their voices an eerie harmony as they fell away, cringing.

Without pausing, Kaoru knelt, her hands gently touching the girl's chest. She could feel the ragged rise and fall of it; somehow this young woman had survived. A wave of nausea almost overwhelmed Kaoru as the cost of the white-fire made itself clear. She ignored it and pushed herself out into the roiling agony of a fragmented mind. Kaoru had never seen a victim of Yamidari's ceremony; nothing in her experience prepared her for it. To soothe such injury would take hours, if it could be calmed at all. She had seconds.

_Bright Lord, guide me. I cannot save your child's life—but I can save her from being Yamidari's tool._

Her power bent outward, radiating a forced calm, a forced peace. Like a drug it spread into the woman's mind, seeking out the core of her identity. Amid the pain and terror that twisted everything into ugly chaos, a small spark flickered. Kaoru arrowed toward it, disregarding all else. As she touched that single spark, it skittered away, the need for escape from torment fuelling it. Kaoru followed and gently, carefully, pulled it in.

_Hush, little one._

Only a whimper returned to her. She wanted more; permission for what she had chosen to do. But though she pulled and coaxed, the mind yielded nothing. There was nothing left to give. Nevertheless, she had to try.

_Little one, I can send you to where there is no pain, no fear. Would you like that?_

Another whimper.

She closed her eyes. _Then sleep. Sleep the last sleep and wake in the peace of the beyond._

Kaoru's power shuddered, snapped, and flowed back into her, severely depleted. The chest beneath her hand rattled once and then stilled. It was done.

This had perhaps taken ten seconds. Looking up, Kaoru could see three of the Swords struggling to their feet; the fourth lay where he had fallen, his face a twisted husk of agony. A movement at her back alerted her; she twisted around, bringing her hands up. There was a flash in the dark as a knife was raised. Kaoru rolled awkwardly to one side of the body as the blade plunged downward with a piercing whistle.

"Takeo. That is enough." The Servant's eyes glowed, and the knife stopped in midair. The hand that still held it was shaking with the effort to bring it down.

The priest whirled toward the Nightwalker. Kaoru could not see his face, but his words painted a clear picture of what his expression must be.

"You saw what she did and you allowed it! Let her pay in blood for the blood she's denied to God!" His face, fine-boned and sharp, was twisted into a snarl.

The Servant's face flickered spasmodically—an expression that looked suspiciously like laughter deprived of sound.

"Oh, really? You wish to give the blood of a Noranen to our God? I think it would be unpalatable, at best."

"That is not for you to decide; I have the High priest's authority here, and the decision is mine alone."

"Dear Takeo," the Servant said, rising from his seat, and instinctively those surrounding him shied away, "you and your minions would not be here at all if I had not chosen to intervene. Do not make me regret the generosity of that decision."

With two long strides he bridged the gap between himself and the Bishop. Kaoru noted that his feet almost never touched the ground. "If you were too careless to ward yourself against a little girl's strike, that is your problem. It changes nothing, not even my opinion of you."

Takeo was silent for a few minutes. When he spoke again, his voice was smooth and even. "Lord Kenshin, let me make it clear that the church value and respect the abilities that you have proven here; in no way do I wish to suggest otherwise. But this woman has proven herself in every way our enemy, and as she has demonstrated, she still has power here. I believe it would be expedient to dispatch her immediately."

With equal smoothness the Servant replied, "And I do not. I did not bring her back for your amusement, but for my own."

"Nevertheless, Lord, I must do as—" The words were cut off as the Servant leaned forward and casually grabbed the collars of the priest's robe. With contemptuous ease he lifted Takeo off the ground and let him dangle there.

"Half blood, you will do nothing." The mockery was gone from his voice. "This night's effort has cost me much that I will have to spend the time to replenish. Another word from you, and you will be my first." He jerked his arm and threw the priest aside without further comment. Then he walked quietly to where Kaoru crouched.

She felt his shadow spread across her upturned face and knew the meaning of the word enemy more clearly than she ever had before. The hair on the back of her neck rose as she met the yellow flash of his eyes. If Lord Sagara had eyes of sapphire, this Servant's were living amber. It surprised her; she thought they should be cold.

He held out a hand, which also surprised her; it was human in appearance, but longer and finer. She ignored it and rose to face him. The Bishop had named him Lord Kenshin, and she knew the name: He was First of the Ten of the Enemy, with a power equalled only by the first Lady's, Lady Kamiya.

There was death here.

At last, there was a death.

"You did very well, girl. Very well indeed. Walk with me."

This time she did as she was bidden, the shock of his shadow surrounding her. So great was his power that she hardly noticed his height—it was too, too insubstantial.

"You do not cooperate here," she noted.

He didn't bother to look at the Bishop, who was already rising from the blackened earth.

"No." He stopped in front of his makeshift throne and smiled. "Perhaps the Noranen have learned to respect their superiors in a way the Yamidarian have not. Perhaps not; the light must give way to the darkness, and the beginning to an end. I shall teach you respect of that darkness and that end, half-blood."

"Perhaps not," she replied, her mimicry soft but evident. "For the darkness gives way to the light; the end to a new beginning."

He smiled. "Well said. But look around you and look well. For you and your people, dawn is a scant few hours away, but it may as well be centuries. None of you will see it."

Kaoru went cold; her muscles clenched tight, stifling breath. Tilting her chin, she said, "No. If our eyes cannot see it, our memories will hold it before you like a shield. We carry the light within us; you may dim it, but you will never destroy it. That is our nature."

"No, little girl. That is your nature, the rest are humans. And if I gave you all to the Bishop, you know that you alone would prove true to it. I offer you, as proof, the non-blooded female you have just killed."

Kaoru shuddered inwardly, and the Servant sank back into his chair, his fingers forming a steeple beneath his chin.

"But other things interest me; other things motivate me. Do you know," he said conversationally, "that none of my number has ever devoured one of yours? The Noranen are protected against us in ways that are not easily broken, and they die so quickly. If I had a few days with you, girl, I would attempt it. And I would succeed."

She stiffened, waiting for him to finish. But in her mind were Abikaro's words from six years ago when he had taught her an important lesson.

"_They feed on the death-pain and unwillingly given lifeblood of those that they kill. I hear it takes a long time for their victims to die, worse than in blood ceremonies of the Enemy."_

"_Against such a power, you cannot prevail._

"_If you can escape, you are to do so. But if you cannot . . . that is what we begin to learn today._

"_I will teach you how to summon a clean death for yourself if the need arises. You will feel no pain, or little of it, should any attempt to use you for the dark ceremonies. Nightwalkers, who like to torture their victims, will have little or no satisfaction should they personally destroy you; there will be no pain to feed on; no fear."_

Every Noranen warrior learned this from young age.

_My mother had not..._

The Nightwalker was talking.

"But such is the nature of time; when I am here it affects me as any mortal. Already your people will be on the move against us—Sagara of Noria will know I am present, although he will not be in time to move against me if my business here is short." Leaning forward, he motioned to two soldiers. They quickly separated from the crowd. "Take another. There, the boy. If the mother tries to stop you, hold her and kill the child slowly."

They nodded curtly and did as he commanded. The woman allowed them to remove her young son from the dubious safety of her arms. He was perhaps five; certainly old enough to know the caution of fear. Although he trembled in the mail of the arms that held him, he made no sound or struggle.

"Very good." The golden eyes returned to Kaoru. "Now, I have a choice to offer you. You are intelligent; I assume you know what it is."

Kaoru had already turned away from him to stare dully at the boy. They had disarmed her, else she might have considered dealing herself a death-wound to call the power of God. It would not save the villagers, nor would it destroy the Servant—but the Yamidarian here would suffer before she died.

Battousai was smirking."I wish to destroy you, painfully and slowly, in the fashion of my . . . kindred. It has never been done before because my brethren are less subtle than I am known to be; they believe they can beat down the will of Noria blood by force alone. I am willing to grant you more strength than that during the short term and, as I have already said, I do not have the long term to look forward to where you are concerned."

Kaoru looked carefully at the soldiers; their faces were guarded but she could detect the strain beneath their careful neutrality. They were not Swords, then. Her eyes scanned the crowd, squinting in the sparse light. She sent out a hesitant probe—the smallest spark of light—but it failed before it could reach the first rank. The Servant had stopped it.

With a soft smile she turned back to him.

He returned a brittle, edged version of her expression.

"Yes, little warrior, your little ploy has incapacitated most of the Yamidarian available. I will give you the respect that is your due. I make no attempt to convince you that the human soldiers here would willingly carry out the service of Yamidari on so young and so helpless a crowd of civilians. But there is still the priest."

She nodded, waiting.

"For reasons that do not concern you, I wish to deny him that pleasure. Which is a pity—" He stood. "—for that leaves me."

His smile was wide and genuine; that was the horror of it. "It is the blood of the Dark Searvants that allows the Yamidarian to be what they are; to convey the sensations of pain and terror that come from a shattered human mind. Their mortal blood limits them, but even with this limitation they are easily up to their work.

"Can you bear to imagine what I can do? I am the eldest of my kind; no mortal taint inhibits me." He gestured, beckoning the guards. They carried the child to him. Gingerly he encircled the boy with his arms.

"Can you?" His arms tightened around a sturdy linen smock. The child stiffened, his pupils dilating. A low, strangled moan slid out of his mouth, and he slumped back to rest against the shadow. The Servant casually let the child fall to the ground, his eyes never leaving his true prey.

Kaoru started forward, reaching for the child. No one interfered as her hands sought and found his skin. She went outward, catching the injuries inflicted by the Nightwalker's embrace. To her great relief they were only physical; a few ribs were snapped but had not pierced the lungs. She soothed the confusion in the boy's half-conscious mind as she dulled his pain. Then, although she knew it would make no difference in the end, she healed the cracks in the ribs themselves.

"As you see, I can choose to be merciful. I seldom do so without good reason."

Kaoru walked quietly past the red-headed Servant. He made no move to stop her. With quick, flat steps she approached the boy's mother.

"Here," she said, handing the child over with great care. "Take him. Hold him carefully." Without another word she turned back to the Servant.

He watched her as she approached, aware of the odd light that suddenly glinted in her blue eyes. She stared at him as if seeing him for the first time. And for a moment, a brief single moment, Battousai wondered if, despite her young face, she was a child indeed.

The moment passed.

"Your decision?"

She held out a hand and flinched as he took it. And she gazed down at the red lines of it, a pale fascination in her eyes. "I can give you what you wish for, I will bear the pain and torture without invoking my Light —but not 'without good reason.' " Her imitation was bitter and failed on the last word. "If my people are to perish at your hands or the hands of the Priest, there is no reason to submit to you."

"You will not be forced to observe it."

"Don't insult me. If you think that squeamishness is the driving force behind the Noranen, you're wrong."

"Very well. Guards—"

"And if you kill or injure another one of my people, I swear blood-oath that you will never accomplish your desire. Not with me."

"Ah. Very good. Very, very good." He made a gesture of dismissal with his left hand. Lazily he said, looking down at her, "If I promise that your people will receive a clean death—"

She shook her head. "I want their freedom."

He darkened slightly. "Girl, what I do, I do for amusement only. Insolence never amuses me."

In a low voice she said, "Let them go. Without my protection they have little chance against your forces—but it is that chance alone that I will bargain for."

"And if I give you my word?" He laughed. "What is the worth of the word of a Servant of the Dark?"

"Maybe nothing.

"Indeed. And for risk of that you give the word of Noria." His hand tightened around hers, cutting off her circulation. His robes swirled in the windless night, lapping at her boots. "I accept."

She pulled away, her free hand tracing the least of the wards. "My people first."

He laughed openly. "It has been a long time since I have encountered one of your number. Too long, perhaps." He turned to the men that ringed the square. "Release them."

A look of confusion washed across the ranks like a wave, but no one put this into words. Moving forward, they surrounded the villagers and began to push them out. Kaoru thought she could see one or two of the enemy human soldiers sigh with relief, and it warmed her a little.

"Gently."

Only one of the villagers stopped to look back. He was an older man wearing a makeshift bandage that obscured a third of his face—the schoolmaster, Dorcas. His familiar, bloused shirt was stained red and plastered against his chest. "Kaoru, we—"

"You must leave. Remember your vows of trust and faith. Let me invoke them now; one life is in the balance against many." She could hear the tremor of fear and hope in his voice as he tried to speak again, but knew that his concern transcended them. The knowledge of what it must have cost him to turn back warmed all of her; she accepted it as the tribute it was. In a quiet voice, she said, "Thank you."

He nodded gruffly and began to move along with the rest of the people, her people. They were taken by the night.

And Kaoru was alone with death. She felt an odd sort of peace envelop her fully as she stared at the Servant. She watched him, half adult and half the child that she was.

_My word._ She faced the Servant, her expression remote._ Bright Lord, help me prove true to it_. There were ways to distance oneself from pain. She could see Abikaro, or the ghost of Abikaro, instructing her yet again in their uses. She could remember the struggle to call them forth in his drill circle. She touched on them briefly, then cast them aside; their power was derived from the complexity of her blood, so the use of them would break her vow to the Nightwalker.

He brought his hands up to either side of her face, and she watched him. She did not flinch or close her eyes, and for a moment she wondered how could one so beautiful be so cruel.

Contact. She cried out at the shock of it. Her hands shot up and she forced them down. Through clenched teeth, she said, "Do it quickly."

"That, little half-blood, was no part of our bargain." His fingers slid across her cheek, peeling it open. When she jerked back and the sensation vanished, she knew it for a game. Flinching, she forced herself to be still.

This, this was the death that she had earned for herself nearly four years ago.

The game stopped; the pain began in earnest.

He closed his eyes and lifted his head to savour this dark communion. His smile grew, transforming the lines of his face, pulling the corners of his mouth over sharp, angular teeth. For a moment the lines of his face flickered in shadow; half the human he chose to appear, and half the Servant he was.

_Yes. Take my lifeblood. Take it, freely offered, freely given_. She called no God; her word—and her desire—prevented it. But she was dying. _Take it._

He tried, but more than her life passed into his hands. Something strange, something new, something brilliant; it was pure and clean. A soft glow, a hard light—it somehow embodied the essence of the unknown. It was not Noranen Light, it did not hurt him. It overwhelmed him with the strangeness of its taste and texture; he pulled it in as quickly as it was offered, but instead of dimming, it grew stronger, brighter, hovering above the shell of the life that was ebbing.

It dazzled him, but not enough to stop him from marvelling; he was curious for the first time in millennia. Pain, suffering, disintegration—these were familiar, these were expected. But this half mortal gave him more than this. It was almost as if she yearned for the touch that life itself fled from.

He let the thread of her life slip away, choosing instead to coil himself around this other sensation before it vanished. He called to it, drinking it in, and it came. He could not analyze it; could not dissect it; could not sever it from its source. He hurt her, clinically and deliberately, ignoring her pained whimpers, but though her life faltered, this thing did not; like a beacon too high to touch it shone on, disregarding him. He pulled at it—minutes, maybe hours passed. They were of no matter.

Light. But it was surely not a light with which he was familiar.

After a while, standing on its edge was not enough—if she was the source of it, he would break her to reach its center. He threw himself into the fragments of her mind, tearing them open. Methodically he sifted through her memories, discarding all that seemed irrelevant. He stripped her carefully of experience, peeling away the layers of years and identity until something beneath that stood revealed—a spark in the chaos. Hard and clear, it hung suspended by thin strands, waiting for him.

He went to it, unerring, wrapped it in the velvet of his night, and began to feed on it—or tried to. But the warm light of it washed over him like a wave; he could not hold it long enough to consume it. It pushed outward, beyond his night, his darkness. He struggled with it futilely, unwilling to admit that its very nature defied his hunger.

It began to recede as he fought with it; it pulled farther and farther away from the iron of his grip. He cried out once in frustration—and once in pain.

Sunlight began to make its hold on the world felt; it streaked across the horizon in a pale, red blanket. Kenshin lost his grip on Kaoru and she crumpled to the ground, at his feet. He looked up once at the eye of morning before turning his back on the pain it caused. Grimly he knelt beside Kaoru. His hands, deprived of their ability to absorb, only touched the surface of her throat. There, insistent and faint, he felt the throb of a pulse. It amazed him.

"Perhaps," he said, stroking her skin, his amber eyes gazing at her tired face, "it was not lack of subtlety on our part, but rather some subtlety on yours. There is still no Servant who can claim to have fed on Noranen life."

_Life. I'm alive._ She thought it almost bitterly, but the words would not make their way through the parched tunnel of her throat. Self-awareness flooded back to her, dimming the light of her earlier determination. She knew she was cold, hungry, and tired—but she would give in to none of these things. Not yet.

"And still conscious." The sunlight had not yet deprived him of strength, although he could feel it blistering his back. Sliding his arms around her, he lifted her quickly and glanced around.

"Battousai."

He stiffened and turned his head slightly into the sun.

Takeo stood a few feet away. Without bothering to reply, Kenshin started toward the encampment; in a few moments day would be too close and too bothersome. He ignored the footsteps that dogged his retreat.

He stopped at the entrance of the tent. Six men, armoured and armed with crossbows, barred his way. The bows were not pointed at him; as weapons they would have little effect. He looked carefully at the men, engraving their trembling faces into his perfect Servant's memory. He moved forward, and one of the six stepped toward him. His words were apologetic and shaky.

"I'm sorry, Lord." He was very pale—a rare sight among the Swords. "You may not enter with the Noranen girl."

"Get out of my way." Each word, measured and calm, had the force of a blade.

Takeo's voice came from directly behind. "I'm afraid, Lord Kenshin, that the men here are under my orders. Hand the girl to me and you may enter or leave as you wish. My business is not with you, but with her."

"Takeo, I begin to find you annoying."

"And that is, I'm sure, quite unfortunate. Nonetheless, you will do as I ask, in the name of the church."

Kenshin placed Kaoru very carefully on the ground and turned to face the priest. The sun was rising; he could feel its nails across even his unexposed skin. He gritted his teeth against the pain.

"Yes, the sun is out, isn't it?" Takeo said casually. "Rather careless of you. It's good to know that we now share similar opinions of each other."

Kenshin had never liked Takeo, although their paths had crossed only briefly. This time he would be sure that he would not endure another such meeting. The sun was on him; with each passing minute it grew more acerbic. Takeo's smile acknowledged the fact that he also knew it.

"Captain, take the girl."

Kenshin spun around and the soldiers drew back, their hesitance painting a clear picture of their fear.

"Battousai, do not force a confrontation here; it would be most unpleasant for me." Takeo's tone belied his words.

"It will be." With a swift, sudden lunge, Kenshin moved forward, his left hand swinging in a clear, wide arc. Takeo's eyes widened in surprise as the fist smashed into his neck. Choking, he bent over. The Servant was not finished. His hands rose again, twice, each movement precise and economical. Takeo jerked forward and fell prone in the trampled grass.

Leaning over, Kenshin picked the priest up by the back of the robe. He ordered the men to one side and this time they did not refuse him—a good thing for all concerned. If the sunlight had taken its toll of flesh a moment longer, Kenshin was determined to exact no less a price from the Swords. They knew it.

The tent flaps slid open and the Bishop was thrown to one side. Kenshin glared balefully up at the sunlight. Baring his teeth he returned for the girl. She gave a low moan as he lifted her.

"I see you are still awake." The guards noticed the way his grip altered to become at once more secure and less painful—something he himself was barely aware of. "Come, girl." He carried her into the cool darkness of the tent, her long raven hair cascading in the air. After looking around for a few minutes, he lifted the flap and barked out an order. Almost immediately two men entered in, carrying a small cot. They set it up in the middle of the room, their hands unsteady. The Servant ignored the smell of their fear; they did not hold his interest at the moment, all his attention was directed at the girl in his arms. He waited until they had gone before laying Kaoru down between rough wool blankets. Smiling, he watched her feeble efforts to throw them off.

"Now, little mortal, I have a task to attend to. Sleep; I will be with you shortly."

The "task" lay in a fetal curl on the canvas floor, dark robes askew as it gasped for breath. With an unseen smile, Kenshin walked over to where the priest lay.

* * *

><p><em>I'm very tired.<em> Numbly Kaoru tried to move her fingers; they trembled in response, but refused more. She could hear, as if from a great distance, the sound of cloth shuffling. Rest would come soon, and sleep. It was cool and dry, and the sounds of the dying were mercifully absent for the first time in hours.

Sleep? _Kaoru, there's a Servant here_. _What are you thinking?_ Hysterical laughter welled up but she hadn't the strength to release it. She could feel the trickle of tears along the side of her face and wondered absently who they were for. Her eyes closed over them, forcing the last few out, and the shadows that flickered at the edge of her mind dimmed. _At least I'm still alive._

The thought brought her no peace.

Sleep curled tentatively around her and she let it pull her further away from awareness. Floating, she felt the lull of its eddies as they carried her away . . .

A scream dragged her back abruptly. It was high, almost mindless in its intensity. Although it was cut short, the shock of it lingered like echoes.

Instinct shored her up. Instinct gave her the strength to stumble out of bed—_bed?—_in the direction the cry had come from. Almost immediately she collapsed. The rough touch of canvas slapped her skin as she dragged her head up.

_I can't see you I can't get out from under these—_

_No, Kaoru. You are in a dark tent._

The scream came again, weaker in volume, stronger in intensity. It came from someone inside the tent. Taking a deep breath, she crawled; the pain that called her would not let her rest. Her hands reached out toward a patch of something that seemed darker than the rest of the tent. She felt cloth beneath her fingers and weakly pulled at it. It moved; it gave a sharp intake of breath as if it were alive. A whisper of a sigh came from her mouth; this was not the source of pain. She moved beyond it and felt a hand at her back, pushing her down.

"Where are you going, little one?"

The words made no sense to her. She hadn't the energy to shake her head, but her sense of frustration grew. Her knees moved, but she could go no farther, the strong hand still held her down. Almost inarticulately she mouthed two words: "It hurts." It was the only explanation she had the strength to offer, but it seemed to appease the darkness; the hand lifted and her knees began to inch her forward.

Her arms were already stretched out to their full length along the floor. She lifted them and stretched her fingers out.

Contact. This was it.

Something shuddered at the touch, writhing as if to avoid it. Surprised, she pulled her fingers away, but they were called back, to rest against warmth and pain. The struggle against her grew feeble; Kaoru felt an unfamiliar barrier touch her hand—an unpleasant sensation that reminded her of the colour red. She withdrew her hand once more, and again it returned, called to the pain. So she kept it there and pushed outward against the barrier to the thing that called to her so strongly. Like a poorly made tapestry, it began to fray under the tips of her fingers. It throbbed as if unwilling to grant her entry, but she could sense it grow weaker as the call grew stronger. Then the barrier broke; attacked from within and without, it fell away in shards.

It took most of what she had left to open the channel between herself and this other. She couldn't have broken the contact even if she'd wanted to, but the thought didn't occur to her; she had gone too far. All that was left of her went out through it, out to the one who was hurting so very badly.

Like a blanket, she wrapped herself around it, absorbed what she could of it, and comforted what she could not. She sensed a terrible, lost confusion and, as if it were a child, she eased it, rocked it, and cradled it—all without a single motion. She was a healer of Noria; what else could she do? The pain-call was too great.

And through it all, the darkness was laughing.

"Ah, little one—I do not believe you even know who it is you are trying to help."

Words. More words. She ignored them; the other was almost asleep, its pain dormant. She could rest soon.

"Mercy, little one? Mercy to the Bishop? No one of your people would grant it."

Again the laugh, like the buzzing of an insect, sounded through the tent. Then hands tugged on her shoulders. Hurriedly she pulled herself out before the contact was broken. She allowed herself a weak smile.

"Girl, do you realize what you've done?" He shook her, and her head snapped back to loll against the air, her soft hair falling around her. She didn't answer and was shaken again.

_Stop it!_ Kaoru wanted to scream. She had done her best—why could she not rest? But the hands that held her and the voice troubled her too much, and she forced herself to acknowledge them.

"Girl, this man is Takeo, a priest. You have just granted him a peaceful, painless death. Why?"

Slowly the words twisted into her, piercing the gray that clouded her conscious thought.

_A priest? I saved the Bishop?_

Images of his interrupted ceremony filled her mind's eye in the darkness. The feel of the ruined flesh of his victim came back to trouble her shaking hands.

_Why? He's everything we fight against, everything we die to prevent_. No death at his hands was ever painless—he deserved a hideous, endless torment. _Why? Why did I do it?_

The answer returned to her as quickly as the question left. The bitterness of the truth of Lord Sagara's warning, offered two years ago in the quiet and peace of her home, struck her sharply.

She opened her mouth. Her voice, when it came, was thin and rasping. "It's what I am. He called me; I had to come." And she wept, although she had little energy for it

"Yes. Yes, you did." His voice was almost hushed. "He is half blood no longer."

And he lifted her off the floor, her silent tears staining his robe.

* * *

><p>And here is chapter 4 for you. I know Takeo deserves to be boiled alive, not die peacefully but poor Kaoru could not help it.<p>

Sorry if I am still borrowing some scenes from but soon it will be different.

Please review.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5 is up. Sorry for taking so long, I promise the next chapter won't take as long.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 5:<strong>

The next time Kaoru woke up it was upon hearing a scream. Reacting reflexively, she jumped of the cot and reached for her sword.

There was no weapon. She wasn't a warrior anymore.

She was a captive of a Nightwalker.

Nonetheless, she ran outside the tent. No screaming could be heard now, but she followed a faint trace of pain.

And then she saw the reason behind it.

She could see the outline of the Servant's body against the flat horizon; red hair stirring in the air, knife poised, eyes glinting steel. And beneath him, secured by Yamidarian soldiers, a member of his army, a victim of his ceremony. A "deserter," or so the hushed whisper of grim troops said.

She could feel the smoothness of his robe beneath her fingers as she gripped his cloak, could see the dimming of his eyes as he looked down at her. All around her was sharp intake of breath followed by the tension of sudden silence and the vague hint of relief.

"You dare interrupt me," his eyes flashed again.

"Please. Please don't do this."

A pause.

"I must, little one. I need his blood to bind your power. My own I will not spend."

And she could see, clearly, the odd stillness of his face as the words left his mouth, the way he looked down at her as the dagger came to rest at his side.

She said, "Please, you don't need to do this, not because of me."

He said, "The blood of this 'innocent' will not stain your hands." Speaking, he reached over and grasped the hands he mentioned in one of his own. His was stiff and cold to the touch. "It is not your doing, if that is what troubles you. Leave, now." He had released her, assured of her compliance. She had stumbled back, but not far enough.

"No." It was important to her, more so because she was surrounded by her enemies.

"You test my pa-"

"No. Please, if it's my power you're afraid of, I won't use it. If it's a life you want, take mine."

"You have already bargained your life to me; it is no longer yours to offer." But he made no move to continue. He stood, unnaturally still, his eyes opaque. It was odd; she had expected always to see the gold burning in them.

"I—I will give you my word, as a warrior of Noria. I will bind myself as effectively as you could bind my power." She knew none of the fear that the others knew; she was not afraid of the death he could offer. Reaching out, her hands had found his cloak again, her fingers grasping it as if to shake his implacability.

And she felt the coldness of his hand as he grasped hers again and pulled her closer to him.

"As a captive you make too many demands," there was no anger in his cruelly handsome face, if anything there was amusement.

And she was left with the feel of the dagger as he placed it, handle first, in the palm he pulled loose from his cloak.

"I accept."

The march to the Dark Empire began.

_What do you want from me?_ Kaoru glanced from side to side at the escort she had been given: six soldiers, all without the taint of blood that marked the Yamidarians. Their black surcoats were torn and dirty, but no hint of red embroidery scarred their surface.

During the day the troops slept, and during the night they marched. These were the orders of the Nightwalker and none sought to disobey them. It lengthened the march, but their lives were worth the extra time.

_What do you want?_

Two days had passed, but she was still not used to walking like this, a refugee in the shadows of tree, stone, and night.

She thought of her failure, and it hurt. _Is that what this is about? Am I not even enough of a threat to merit death?_

But she walked free.

Every so often she would look at the pale thinness of her wrists and wonder. No other prisoners had been taken by this army.

She walked free, under an oath.

She walked under moon and starlight, discovering the way darkness transformed the landscape; she walked behind a rank of torches that flickered over helmed and unhelmed head alike, bringing into relief the traces of sweat and dirt that lingered on grim faces. She walked with her own thoughts as company, conversing with voices of people that she had not touched for years; advised by the dead.

_Abikaro...I walk free, and this simple fact confuses me._

_I don't understand it._ She sent out a glimmer of white-fire; the smallest trace of her renewed power. It danced a small spiral before dimming, and she watched it, bemused. _He didn't bind me._

_You gave him your oath, Kaoru_; _until you reach the capital, you can do nothing to escape. He knows what the word of a Noranen is worth_.

_Yes. But I don't understand why it matters. He could have killed the soldier . . ._

It still surprised her as she dwelled on it. She had been speechless with a peculiar shock, unable to say anything as he had walked away from her, leaving her free.

Free.

She had helped the shaking man to his feet, but her eyes had followed only the Servant's departure.

_Why am I still alive? What game are you playing?_

"Does something trouble you, little one?" His voice, as always, came out of the night with no warning.

She started slightly before glancing at him from the corner of her eye. "No."

He fell into step beside her, his feet avoiding the missteps that she made. "You are very quiet."

She said nothing.

"Tonight, little one, we will make camp before dawn, tonight I will call upon our initial bargain."

Kaoru almost stopped but she forced herself to walk, her face impeccable.

"Are you afraid, little warrior? Do you regret saving those peasants lives at the cost of yours?"

"Never."

His golden eyes were fixed on her profile, she could feel them but refused to meet them.

"You are peculiar, I am glad to have kept you and tonight you are mine."

He disappeared.

* * *

><p>That night they made camp in a deserted village.<p>

Walking among the burnt huts, Kaoru was yet reminded of those she failed to protect. The sky was black, probably it was two hours before dawn but the torches illuminated the entire village. And at the furthest corner of the ruined village a great tent was erected for the Night Lord...

And herself.

_Tonight you are mine. _

Kaoru halted between two huts. The hatch had burnt to nothingness long ago. It made Kaoru wonder about the occupants of this village. _What fate befell them? Are they long dead? Or slaving in the dark empire? _

A fate worse than death.

Kaoru touched the blackened wood. _Why are you thinking of this?_

The answer was clear. Anything to divert her thoughts away of what is coming.

The pain.

The First must be waiting for her, probably amused by her delay. She would not escape, she promised.

But she was scared.

His prying into her mind was worse than physical pain.

Heaving a resigned sigh, she pushed herself away from the hut and turned around, only to freeze on her place.

Three soldiers were blocking her way.

After her initial shock Kaoru recovered instantly.

"Move," she said calmly.

"Or what, little warrior?" the largest of them said mockingly and laughed with the other two.

Kaoru gazed at them a moment longer before she turned and headed for the other opening.

A large hand grabbed her arm above her elbow.

"Hey!"

Kaoru whirled and punched him.

They were humans, her Light would be useless against them, therefore, her only option was to fight them with her hands.

Their intentions were known to her. Kaoru had healed women damaged in the same fashion. Their physical wounds she healed completely but the emotional scars she could do nothing about. And now she was going to suffer their fate.

The man she struck swore and was upon her the next moment. Kaoru managed to hit him again and kick a man to her left, her agility and nimbleness surprised them for few moments but they quickly recovered. And against their combined power she could do nothing. One of them back handed her and she fell to ground. She surrounded herself with Light to banish the pain and dizziness. Her hands flailed and struck before they were pinned above her head. A gasp escaped her lips when one of the soldiers kicked her on the ribs.

_Light _

Another kick was delivered on her other side, something cracked, her rips, and the pain made her cry out before she blocked it.

"She is using her powers," the man holding her wrists commented.

"I don't care," the largest man replied, looming over her before he kicked her again, "after hours of long marching she will tire quickly and all I care about is my pleasure..." he lowered himself and straddled her hips. The young girl twisted beneath him and almost managed to dislodge him then she received several slaps on the face for her effort. Her lips were bleeding, and her cheeks were on fire.

A hand touched her breast and another fumbled with her leggings with the aim to lower it down her legs. Her hands were useless, for the man above her head refused to yield. Kaoru opened her mouth, whether to tell them to stop or scream she never knew because the man on top of her screamed before.

The scream echoed in the dark night. Kaoru saw a shadow pass before the man in top of her rolled his eyes and slumped side way beside her. The shadow stood over her now, its golden eyes rested on her briefly before shifting.

The other two men screamed and scrambled away.

The shadow moved and Kaoru sat up quickly. "No!" she gasped.

The shadow halted. "No?" he tilted his head, and now she could see clearly his beautiful face, its features so still and the eyes so cold. "Perhaps, little one, you are quick to forgive, but I don't hold such sentiment. They dared to touch what is mine and they will pay." He started to move towards the panicked men but again found his robes griped by a small hand. He looked down in anger.

"Please..." one of her hands was gripping his robe and the other was wounded around her midsection. She dared not use her healing Light so close to the First. "Please, another chance...give them another chance." Kaoru didn't know why she was saying this. Rape did not merit forgiveness, but somehow it was important to stop this Nightwalker from killing those humans.

_Why? Why? Why? What are you doing to me?_

"Please..." she whispered before falling sideway. She needed her Light. She expected to meet the ground, however, a hand shot out and scooped her up in a tight grip.

"Little girl, I don't understand you," he began to move, leaving the pathetic whimpering humans behind.

"Kaoru..."

The Lord Kenshin stopped for a moment upon hearing this. He looked down at the girl in his arms. Her eyes were closed, her bruised cheek resting against his shoulder.

"My...name is...Kaoru," her voice was small, her lips were trembling.

Battousai resumed his walk.

Inside the tent it was dark apart from a lantern in the corner. The First placed her on the narrow cot and stood watching her. She was awake but her eyes were closed and her breathing was very irregular.

"I need..." she opened her eyes, and those shining blue eyes fixed themselves on him, "I need to use...my Light...my rips."

He understood. Her rips were broken and she couldn't use her healing powers so close to him, she had promised.

"I will..." she continued with great difficulty, "I will be...ready...the promise..."

Tonight he was supposed to feed upon her pain, her anguish. He had been waiting for her here and was amused by her delay, thinking her afraid and hiding somewhere. Yet when he had found her, she had not been hiding, but was about to get ravished by humans. He had felt her pain acutely back then and for a moment he had been tempted to increase her pain. But his anger over those men had outweighed his desire for her pain. And now...

He stared down at her, she was looking at him through strained eyes, waiting for his permission to heal herself. He knew a moment urge to refuse, to prolong her suffering as long as possible, it was an instinct, he was the First of the Dark Servants, but when he spoke his words bullied his desire.

"Use your Light, Little...Kaoru," he moved back, "and sleep, I will see you at dusk."

_What are you doing to me?_

He disappeared.

* * *

><p>The march resumed after sunset the same day.<p>

Kaoru walked among the soldiers but none dared to look at her. They had buried the dead man in the village.

The other two of her assailants still lived.

_And he did not touch me._

_Why?_

Why was he doing this? She continued to challenge his nature in small ways and he always yielded.

_Why? What do you want from me? _

Kaoru walked as if dazed. Every step was taking her away from her beloved country and into the Dark lands. _Okita...if you were here, what would you make out of this? _

The Nightwalker was nothing like she had expected.

_Leave me alone._

"Kaoru."

Kaoru jumped and for a moment wondered how he knew her name. Then she remembered.

_I told him_

In a moment of pained confusion and weakness she told him her name.

"Kaoru," he said again, and she refused to look at his face. A face so deceptively handsome. "You are troubled." He said.

Kaoru only shook her head.

Kenshin looked down at her. Even though she kept her word and used none of her power without permission, he could see the faint glimmer of light that surrounded her face and hair.

She was his enemy, by birth and by taint.

The desire to destroy her completely suddenly filled him, but he fought it. Her destruction would tell him nothing at all about the strange quality that imbued her life, the odd light that had so captivated him that she had survived his touch till morning.

And today he had spared her the pain of his touch.

_Why?_

For a moment, as he contemplated her silent profile, he saw that light again, and he called it beautiful.

_What have you done to me, Kaoru_? Almost, he reached out to touch her, but he knew that she would start or shy away, so he kept his hand still. Even this was strange, stranger than she could know, for anything that he wanted had always been his.

Perhaps that was because his desires had always been simple ones, and his strength alone enough to grant them.

She was not afraid of him. He, the greatest of her enemies but one, engendered no fear. How odd.

He knew that he should leave, but could not bring himself to do it. _What have you done?_

_We are enemies, yes. But still . . ._

He gave an elegant shrug and continued to walk by her side as the army moved on its rough path through forested hills in a procession of torchlight and heavy-footed silence. He found himself asking of her life in Noria—questions that no Noranen would ever answer. Nor did she prove an exception. Still he could not leave.

Instead, he began to tell her of Thalamia, the heart of the empire that he was building. He described its spirals and towers; its streets and the way they looked when shrouded with evening mist; its dark cathedrals, and the worshipers they gathered when the moon waned. He spoke of the shadows that it housed when day lingered, and the way those shadows traced their graying fingers over the landscape. He told her how he closed those fingers when he walked the streets of the city—his city.

In confusion, Kaoru listened to the rise and fall of his voice. She would not look at him, but she could not look completely away, nor stop his words from touching her. She heard beneath them a cold and deathly silence, and beneath that something she did not want to identify. It was as if he spoke a eulogy over the corpse of a worthy enemy at last defeated in battle; it had the same exultation of victory, the same emptiness of purpose, that the born warrior knew.

He watched her as he played with the words, awaiting a response that never came. He could see the lines of her face; they spoke of confusion and weariness beneath the invisible cage that she had chosen to wear. He continued to speak.

She listened, losing the thread of his words to their smooth tone. She tried to capture the spirit behind them; to appreciate for an instant the beauty of the icy, chill world he described. For a moment she stood on the outer edge of Thalamia, a distant observer. The twin spires of the city cast their delicate shadows along her face, and she could nearly feel the gentle way they called her into the twilight. She could almost understand his dark pride then, for she could perceive beauty in the cold elegance of his words: the beauty of frost on windows in winter. She turned to face him for the first time in the evening, half wanting to share her thought.

Then he began to speak of something else. The words penetrated the shroud of fragile image Kaoru had constructed, shattering it.

For he spoke of the subjugation and enslavement of the people of Kerwin, the small kingdom the Yamidarians had conquered a decade ago. In a voice full of the same pride with which he had spoken of Thalamia, he described the conditions of their life and the reasons he believed they would never break free of them. As if unfolding the technique behind a much-loved piece of art, he spoke of their fragmentation and the way they had been thinly spread across the country to labour for the rest of their lives without glint of hope at the whim of the church-born nobility. The hated Yamidarians nobility, whose cruelty was known as far as Noria. He told her of how the use of their language had been made a crime punishable by death, most often the slow death of close relatives or friends. In time, without language or countrymen, they would forget that they had ever known a different life. They would be completely his.

And as Kaoru listened, each word formed the link of a familiar chain. A wave of revulsion and anger welled up from her and she grasped it gratefully. She cast off the confusion that had accompanied her for the last few days, remembering clearly who she was, and who he was.

He did not notice. In the same tone, the same voice, he continued to speak, only this time more theoretically. Like a surgeon, he described the fragile points of a culture—a king, the church, or the popular heroes; how, if careful, one could apply specific pressure, or pain, and the whole structure would collapse. He smiled quietly as he spoke of how those who remained would seek out some inspiration, some guidance, some God when the strongest among them had failed; or better, how many would feel, without knowing how it ran their lives, that they somehow merited the treatment they received after their defeat.

Under the hail of his words, the night grew darker and grimmer. Kaoru walked under the slowly rising heat of anger; her eyes followed the road a few inches away from the tips of her feet. He talked on; and this time, when his words ran together and she lost the text of their meaning, she felt overwhelmed by the destruction inherent in the quiet pride of his voice. For that was all she could feel: his quiet, strong confidence. There was no gloating, no intent to cause her added pain—this she would have understood and, in some perverse way, readily accepted.

He was speaking to her as if she understood the enjoyment he had at the fruits of his labour, as if she were his equal.

Unaccountably she was reminded of the way children would often come to her with things they found joy in: a kitten, a painted toy, or a new story. They would carry these things in their hearts or hands, their eyes shining with a shy pride and an open desire to share them.

Her head snapped up and glanced off the endless line of men before her. She could see in them all that the Servant had spoken of: the fear they fought for, or because of, and the way the night gathered them up and held them out in the palm of the Servant's hand.

With a small, inarticulate cry she stopped short and swung round, bringing her hand up quickly enough to slap the side of the Servant's face. The words stopped; that was good. Without waiting for a response, she turned and darted off the road, into the waiting darkness of trees.

Low branches stung her cheek and brow as she ran through them; they clung to her hair and the collar of her robe as if animated with a desire to stop her. The moon, a pale sliver of silver on black, wavered before her in an odd sort of dance. She blinked, and its glow became static as tears slid down her cheeks.

Her fingers came up to touch them.

_I'm crying,_ she thought, numbly. _Why?_

The hint of an answer formed at the back of her mind, and she began to run again. Running was good; the shock of her feet hitting the ground kept thought at bay. She fought to keep her breathing clean and even.

* * *

><p><em>How far can you run, Kaoru?<em>

Kenshin stood out of the reach of the light, in the cover of a large tree. The road was some distance behind—not that it mattered; the army had stopped to wait for his return. He was slightly vexed; the nature of her sudden departure had surprised him. The touch of her hand on his cheek lingered—an insult that no other mortal would survive. But Kaoru...

He could not see her, but the sound of her progress was clear; in the distance she was snapping dry branches. He followed her, keeping a constant distance between them. Twice she slowed, but as he approached, she began to surge forward again. The third time she slowed he could hear the halting shuffle of her feet as she came, at last, to a stop. He walked silently, feet barely touching the ground, until he could see her.

She sat curled against the side of a tree, head buried in the arms she had wrapped around her shoulders. Too tired for tears, but not for thought; her body's momentary stillness let thought have free rein.

He had spoken to her of the empire he was building, of people as the mortar that held it together, crushed between different deaths. His voice had held such pride, such quiet pleasure—as if he were a child, his dream clutched in deathly, orphan hands, the mask of his face revealing death, the destruction of her village, the corpses of her people strewn along the streets beneath his watchful eye.

_His eyes._

They should have been red; they should have contained the horror of red-fire and malice.

She began to shake, and her hands lost their grip on her shoulders and came to lie in weak fists on her lap. How dare he? How dare he come to her, to share the evil that he had done and would continue to do? How dare he remind her of—

"Kaoru?"

Her head shot up. In the distance, deprived of even meager torchlight, she could discern his outline, nothing more.

And in the darkness, with the night so clear and so strong, he could make out the throbbing pulse of her lifeblood, and the frail chain of light that bound it. He was surprised; he recognized the Light easily and knew that it should not have been visible to him, not when he was separate. He started forward, drawn to it, but stopped as it began to dim.

Kaoru stood in one fluid motion. Her face, every detail plain to his eyes, was a mixture of rage and guilt. A familiar look, but one he'd not yet seen her features take. He took a step back. She stood very still; only her hands trembled.

Very stiffly he said, "I meant you no harm." Involuntarily he reached out as the Light in her began to gray.

Kaoru stepped forward, neatly avoiding his outstretched arm. Her mouth opened silently as she stared at him, unseeing. Her fist rose in an awkward swing and crashed into his waiting hands. What started as a snarl in the back of her throat came out a whimper; she pulled against the vise that held her. Her foot lashed out, connecting with his shins. He lifted her off the ground by the arms, reducing the force her legs could muster. She met his eyes, expecting them to be murderous, hoping for rage or anger at the least, and, beyond that, hoping for victory, threat, or death. She looked to see the familiar image that had haunted her dreams, that had come so close to touching her the night that her mother had died. She hoped finally to see the curved claw, which long ago had come from the Second, Enishi, and restrained by the Third of the Light, Hiko.

Battousai did not give her what she wanted. There was no death in the eyes that met hers; just a pair of golden orbs that held some hint of confusion. He shook her, but not roughly, as she dangled in the sight of his hollow eyes.

"Why are you looking at me like that? What do you want?" The blows of her feet grew weaker, as her voice rose. "What do you want from me?"

He watched her face as she walked the thin line between rage and sorrow. Both were familiar; he'd seen them, caused them, many times. But from her they suddenly felt wrong.

His answer returned in a cold whisper.

"The Light, little one. The light that grows dim. I want it to shine for me."

His answer was wrong. Nothing he said or did was predictable. She felt confusion begin to take hold of her and cast it off, shoring herself up with the full force of her fury. In a low, deep voice, she said, "You'll never, never do it. You'll never have your empire, or spread the disease of your city into my lands. The Noranen are ranged against you; the Servants of the Bright Lord stand with us. We'll never rest while you rule a single life!"

He laughed. His hands bit into her flesh.

_Now. Now...kill me..._She pulled her head around and down to meet his eyes. The laugh died—and so did a part of Kaoru.

"Little Kaoru, what do _you_ want from me?"

Shaking, she replied, "Your death." But her words were empty, the rage that should have been in them misplaced. He set her down on legs that would not hold her. They crumpled, and she felt the touch of solid earth beneath her hands and the touch of tears that Abikaro would have despised on her cheeks. She bowed her head, he black tresses forming a curtain on either side of her head.

His fingers pulled her chin up as he knelt beside her on the ground. "Kaoru. I meant you no harm."

"Don't."

He did not release her, nor did his words. "I meant only for you to understand the things I wish to create out of the pain and bloodshed you have been party to. I meant for you to see that there is, in my goal, more than just chaos and death, more than the darkness of the first Awakening."

"Don't!"

She pulled her chin away and he felt the touch of water. He lifted his fingers briefly to his mouth, stopped, and looked down at her more closely. In a voice that held wonder, he said, "Kaoru? Kaoru, I have hurt you."

Like a child. She tried to stop the tears before his hand could catch them, before he could drink them in like the lifeblood they were.

_Oh, Abikaro, you never warned me of this._

Sagara's words echoed in her mind._ Nothing is unalloyed. In everyone, even you, child, there is hatred, chaos, and some small measure of darkness. And likewise, the Yamidarians have their love, their order, and their light. It is peculiar and dim; it does not affect the whole—but never doubt that it is there. Try to see this when you walk in darkness. Try to forgive it, though you walk with light._

Kenshin lifted her gently off the ground. She tried once, feebly, to release herself from the tangle of his arms.

But he would not let go; for watching her he had seen some subtle change. Rage had fled, and beneath the pain she expressed, the bands of her light were glowing faintly but surely. As he held her, as she pressed against him, tears mingled with the silk of his clothing, he reached out to touch them, to marvel anew at the foreign feel of them and the way they slipped so easily from his grasp.

He held her, his fingers trailing through her soft hair. After a time, he began to walk back to the road. She trembled in his arms.

_How . . . human. How fragile._


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

"Kaoru."

Kaoru looked up. For many days she'd seen nothing but the backs or profiles of soldiers in the darkness. No one spoke to her; even those that offered her food did so in stiff-lipped silence. She wondered, often, what Okita was doing, but was glad that he was not present to share the march; bad enough to have failed her friends in the village.

By the third day, she was almost willing to help with the injured men, but no one in the army would acknowledge her—no one but him.

"You travel well."

She nodded. She wanted desperately to know where she was being taken, and what awaited her, but she didn't want to give him the satisfaction of a reply.

Not after what had happened a week ago.

"Little one, are you troubled?" always the same question.

_Troubled?_ Her eyes widened and she opened her mouth, whether to laugh or cry, not even she was sure. Her jaw clamped shut and she looked away.

_Why does he have to look so human? So beautiful?_ For it was hard to look at him; hard to see what in any other eyes would have been curiosity, even gentle curiosity, and remember whose eyes they were.

"Do you mind if I walk with you?"

She heard his words, looked up at him again, and said, "Yes."

"Ah."

And he was gone.

* * *

><p>It wasn't a reaction she'd expected. Nothing he did was predictable. She tried to tell herself that she was glad of her isolation as she continued to march toward dawn.<p>

"Kaoru."

A shadow cut the glow of torchlight as it lay upon the ground. Kaoru looked up, surprised. The First Servant stood before her, a small tray in his hands. In silent grace he placed it down before her and stood, his red hair stirring in the breeze.

"You—you don't normally bring me food."

She thought she could see a hint of a smile in the shadows of his lips.

"No." He took a step forward. "I do not usually . . . serve another."

Hands shaking, she reached for the knife on the tray. Her eyes widened slightly.

"The army is eating better than it has been."

"Not the army, little one. Would it trouble you if I remained?"

She closed her eyes, seeing for a moment the silent, voiceless backs of the soldiers.

"No," she said, but softly.

She ate while he watched. It made her wonder what was going into his mind. After the episode in the forest, when she had slapped him and ran away, he had not mentioned their bargain. She wondered when he would call upon her promise.

It made her shiver, thinking of the pain he could inflict and she tried to banish those thoughts for now.

"Would you—would you like to—" She gestured at the plate.

"No." After a moment, he took a seat beside her. "It is not yet time for me to feed."

A hint of a smile again. The food turned to ash in her mouth and she set the knife to one side. She wanted to tell him to leave, to go, to kill her—to do something that made any sense.

"Kaoru?"

"Why do you keep coming to me?" Her hands were clenched and shaking, but she kept them at her side. "Why do you bring me this—" She waved at the food.

"It is better than the food you have been eating, and you have grown weaker this past week."

She hadn't seen him for a week; it was too much to hope that he hadn't seen her, either.

"Why does that make any difference?"

_Why?_ His eyes grew remote and dark, as if the shadow that he would not wear in front of her dwelled entirely within them.

"Why do you look like—like that? All of you."

Her question surprised him and made him wonder which one of the other Dark Servants she had met.

"Would you prefer the darkness? Do you desire the shadow?"

"Don't—that doesn't answer my question. Why are you doing this?"

The sapphire blue of her eyes flashed, not with magic but with mortal emotion. And it would be easy to gutter them. Fingers became claws. Easy. Claws became nails. His hands fell, once again under a mortal seeming.

"Why, Kaoru?" He stood and began to walk away. "I do not know."

She did not know what it cost him to say it; she heard only the words that drifted from his retreating back. But the words were enough to leave her staring helplessly into the small fire.

* * *

><p>He came to her the next night, again bearing his gift of food. It was venison, surrounded by greens—fresh and lightly cooked.<p>

"Would it trouble you if I remained?"

"No." She took the food from his hands, setting it aside for the moment, although she was hungry.

"Servant," she began, her voice almost formal.

"Kenshin," he said quietly. "Although I am often called 'First' as well."

Whatever she had hoped to say vanished. "You—"

"If it makes you uncomfortable, do not call me anything."

Fire and food were the only two things that Kaoru could focus her attention on. She chose the food.

As she ate in silence, he watched her. Frustration was not a thing he was familiar with, but now he felt it keenly. Somehow, in a way that he could not understand, he had once again said or done the wrong thing.

The third night that he brought her dinner, she once again accepted it. Chicken this time, with corn and peas. She shook her head, wondering how on Earth he had found such food; to the best of her knowledge they had not come through any villages. She smiled almost hesitantly as she began to eat.

"Would it trouble you if I remained?"

"No," she replied automatically.

He took his accustomed seat to her left, but said nothing.

"Do you want any of this?"

"No," he answered gravely. "I do not normally eat this mortal fare."

"You should try it." She stopped, trying to remember if she had ever seen Lord Sagara eat anything. Her memory wasn't up to it. She doubted if anyone's was. _Perhaps Okita knows, he had a way of knowing peculiar stuff._

Kenshin watched as the fork fell slowly away from her mouth. He saw her face lengthen and felt his hand clenching once again into a fist. This time he felt he knew what he had done.

"Kaoru," he said, almost quickly, "if you wish, I will try what you are eating."

She started and then looked up. "Pardon?"

"I will have some—chicken?"

The plate stared up at her as if it had become a living entity. Very slowly she cut a piece of her dinner and handed him her fork. Her hands were trembling.

He looked at it, his expression no less grave than it was when he asked if he might remain each evening. Then he took it and raised it to his mouth.

Kaoru watched as he chewed, each movement precise and almost meticulously timed. She counted to five and then watched him swallow.

He turned to meet her wide stare.

"It is—interesting," he said, still grave. "Perhaps I will join you in more of this—" He gave a controlled gesture. "—at another time."

Kaoru laughed.

The sound seemed to come from everywhere, enclosing him as her Light had once done.

"You, you're the most powerful force the Enemy has—and you've never lifted a fork!"

He was torn then, torn between pleasure at this strange laugh and anger at being the cause of it. No mortal had ever laughed at him before.

But unlike other laughter, this held a sense of wonder in it. It puzzled him; he listened.

"Tomorrow," Kaoru said, a smile lingering, "we can try vegetables."

She began to laugh anew, but he did not ask why.

* * *

><p>In the weeks that followed, he kept his word. He brought dinner and joined her in the eating of it. She showed him how to look "normal"—as she put it—while chewing and swallowing and how to make proper use of a knife and fork. When she laughed, she told him of her childhood, of how she, too, had needed to be civilized into eating like an adult.<p>

In fact, as the time wore on, she talked of other things: her lessons in the drill circle, her life with the children, or her attempts, failed, at the use of the longbow. But she did not talk of the war, of battle, or of the losses she had suffered there. Likewise, he did not talk of battle, or his empire, or the Dark Lord.

He learned of things human, things mundane, and she of the stretch of infinity that lay beyond the body of the Immortal Lords.

Only one thing marred the strange friendship that they struggled to share: She asked him, once, if he might let her go. And he answered.

But even then, when he came, Kaoru could force herself to forget that he was a Servant; she could look at the human façade that he presented, to speak and laugh with it.

Maybe, just maybe, there was a hope to be found in the time that he spent with her; maybe there was a light, as Sagara had once said, in the darkness.

Kaoru waited as the day faded. It was one month into her travels; two weeks from the Thalamia that the Servant had once talked of so proudly. She knew she was to be delivered there, but not to what. Nor did she care to question her only companion about it; she wanted, in some way, to preserve the illusion of his humanity.

She watched as the torches were lit, listened as the night came down. The Servant did not arrive. She felt an odd disappointment then and wondered at it as she made ready to march. Twice she scanned the ranks of the men before and behind her, but no hint of the Servant's shadowy presence was evident.

Maybe he would join her on the walk.

But he did not. And as she looked around at the tense, silent legion of men, she felt her heart sink.

_Don't be silly,_ Kaoru, she told herself as she shivered. _Just because he doesn't come for one night doesn't mean that he's—he's . . ._

_No._ The month of evenings shattered into painful, brittle fragments.

Her hands folded into themselves and grew taut; the edge of her nails bit into her skin. Before a scream cut the silence, she knew what he must be doing, and when the cry came she knew where.

_No!_

The ranks buzzed with a sudden relief; the tension that she'd been peripherally aware of faded into grim acceptance in everyone present—everyone but Kaoru.

No man made move to stop her as she pushed by them, her sense of direction and place honed by blood-power. Only three present could see how she smouldered with white-light in the darkness and they also let her pass, satisfied that at last she would meet the death due to her.

_Your word, Kaoru_. _Remember you gave him your word not to use the Light against him._ She kept her flame contained, but barely, barely. She flew across the rocky terrain, her footing sure for the first time in weeks. Her eyes were blazing with the power that she had vowed not to release.

She saw him, bent over a body that shuddered in a silence near death.

He saw her, a living pillar of fire that cut through the night.

Their eyes met, gold and sapphire, over the distance that Kaoru had not yet covered.

She began to walk slowly, hands at her side. The man beneath the Servant gurgled once as the grip that clenched his face went slack. Kaoru could see the glinting white of the man's eyes before they rolled shut.

Just as slowly as she approached, the Servant assumed his full height, as if they moved to the beat of the Dark and Bright Lord. His eyes narrowed at the brilliance she held within; he could not make out the details of her face. Nor could she clearly see his; even to the whiteness of her power he was shadowed and gray. There was nothing remotely human about his beauty.

It was Kaoru who spoke first. She was shining. "Don't do this." She lifted one hand, palm up. In it, a haze of white stirred.

"Kaoru, I hoped to spare you this." He raised his own hand, red light surrounded it. "But this is what I am."

She shook her head once, side to side, the movement slow and deliberate.

He offered her a smile he knew she could not see. "Lady, while I might force you to do other than you desire, I know I could not force you to be other than what you are—except in death. This—" He gestured at the man on the ground. "—is part of what I am. You have only two choices. Accept it, or try to banish me with the fire you hold, as all others of your lines would do."

Again she shook her head, but this time the motion was sharp.

"I gave you my word."

His smile dimmed. "The word of a Noranen. Yes. And I accepted." From the corner of his eye, he could see the man inch his way across the dirt toward Kaoru. Reaching down, he lifted the man up by the neck, dangling him to one side as he continued to watch Kaoru of Noria. He knew that this glowing, dangerous Light was the Light that his army had met on the fields, and had been destroyed by it.

She flinched and took a few steps forward.

"Your word . . . Then you have only one choice." He readied his own power to counter her attack. But it felt wrong to him.

"No." Quickly, lightly, she walked over to where he stood. "I have others."

He gestured briefly with his free hand and was surrounded by a dark red halo. Her face, closer and clearer, was odd; he saw a trace of hesitation in it, fear in the eyes that would not waver from his. But it was not the fear he was accustomed to seeing, for it was not directed at him.

"Are you frightened, little one?" His voice was calm; he might have been asking her what a word meant, or a gesture.

"Yes."

Her answer surprised him with its stark simplicity. He looked down at her for a time before replying.

"You have nothing to fear from me. It is not your life that I have chosen this night." He knew what she would say; she did not disappoint him.

"It isn't for my life that I fear."

"This one's?" He held up his victim.

Again she surprised him, reaching into herself for an answer that she could never have given him at any other time.

"No."

"Then what?"

"I'm afraid that I won't be able to stop you." She said each syllable slowly.

A touch of frustration showed in the furrow of his brow.

"Kaoru, this man is a soldier. Many must have died trying to kill him. Had you won, he would no doubt be dead at the hands of your people. How is my action different?"

_How?_ "I am not afraid of his death. Only the manner of it."

"What does it matter? In the end the result is the same."

Those hands had held cutlery. She had shown him how to do it. "No."

"And if I chose to break his neck instead?"

She shook her head.

"Kaoru?"

Softly, she repeated, "I'm only afraid that I will not be able to stop you." Then, reaching out, she touched the arm that held the man.

Both Kaoru and the Servant flinched at the same instant that red met white. The air crackled sharply. Neither recoiled.

_I am afraid_, she said, silently, _of hope_.

_Then this is your chance, Kaoru. Let him feed. Get rid of any hope permanently. Let him do what he has done for millennia; watch it, feel it, and see it. Accept the truth of what he says._

_I am afraid, _she replied,_ of the death of hope._

_Or the true birth of it? For what is the Enemy if you can stop him? What are you really afraid of?_

_I'm afraid that I _will_ be able to stop him._

She cringed at the mental dialogue, her eyes going through the Servant.

"But I have to try."

"Kaoru? "

"Kenshin."

His eyes flickered as the name slowly drifted away on the night air.

"I cannot force you to be other than what you are. But nonetheless, I ask it of you."

"You are very formal tonight, little Kaoru. It is—unusual." His hunger was forgotten for a moment.

Her hands curled lightly around his arm, sending a shock of pain through her body, and his. She tried to push the white-fire back, to absorb it into her core. It was hard; it was not the way of the Bright Lord's power.

He raised his free hand and brought it to rest a hair's breadth from her chin.

"I do not believe that you have been entirely honest with me."

She said nothing.

"Or perhaps with yourself; I know little of humanity's more subtle emotion. You are afraid, yes, but it is not—" It was not a fear that roused his ancient hunger, not a fear she offered to him. He had never felt its like.

Gently she touched the hand that clutched the man's neck. As she did, she met the nameless man's eyes. She felt his call and let her hands cup his sweaty face. "Please, Kenshin. Please put hunger aside for now."

Then she went out, washing over the terror and agony that wracked the body of the Servant's victim. Dimly she heard laughter, cold and chill, permeating the air around her. It didn't matter; fingers of her comfort picked up the fragments of a mind almost lost to the Nightwalker's hunger, pulling them together and binding them beneath a fragile peace, a fragile sleep.

And when she looked up, she saw that the soldier lay stretched out along the cold ground. A few feet away the Servant stood, arms crossed, as he watched her.

She rose, the light of her power dimmed by her effort.

She was weary, too weary to be surprised or afraid. She walked over to the Servant, to Kenshin, a sad, bitter smile touching her lips and eyes. She wanted to weep and hated herself for the desire.

He reached out to catch her hands and felt the heat that they still radiated.

"Why?" she whispered, making no move to free herself.

He touched her face, his expression distant and grim.

He would not answer that question—not for her, and never for himself.

"Come, Kaoru. You have far to walk this night."

He turned, but she made no move to follow him. And when he turned back, he could see her lingering like shadow, pale and white, where he had left her. Almost as if he had somehow broken her. He felt a distant satisfaction, but it was hollow; when he touched it, it vanished.

He walked back, and she looked up almost blindly, her eyes again focused at a point beyond him. When her voice came, it sounded very young.

"Lord Sagara, I'm afraid. Choose another road for me. I don't have the strength to follow this one."

She started to sway, and he caught her at once, moving quickly enough to stop her knees from hitting the ground as she buckled. Whatever had kept her steady this far had snapped. He lifted her and carried her back to the troops, knowing that they would be in some disorder. He caught a glimpse of one priest, noting the almost comical look of disbelief on his face.

As he slid his arms around her back, Kaoru looked up, her eyes windows into a landscape that he himself had never walked. He saw the Light in her—so different from the white-fire that had burned there minutes earlier—pulsing softly, beautifully. When she shut her eyes, he could still see it. She tucked her chin into her neck.

He thought she slept, and was surprised to hear the soft whisper of her voice, almost inaudible even to his hearing.

"I'm afraid."

"There is nothing to fear, Kaoru. The man will survive for tonight."

And for the third time that night she surprised him. She curled up against his chest, bringing her hand up to touch him. As she did, he saw the bands of her Light come up and pass through and around him.

_The Light...this Light...I will possess it._

"There is nothing—to fear," he repeated.

But he wondered, as her breathing became deep and more regular.

_What are you doing, Kaoru? What is being done here?_

_What are you _really _afraid of?_

* * *

><p><em>Kaoru, Thalamia does not agree with you.<em>

Kenshin turned away from the map he had created, and it vanished. At this moment it could not hold his consideration. He glanced out through windows that stretched from high ceiling to floor, opening like an eye into the night. Thick, red velvet had been pulled and bound by gold rope to allow the darkness to enter, or to watch.

For one week Kaoru had been in his palace. At the expense of great power, he had renewed the northern wing of the palace proper for her—not one of the lesser outbuildings—removing the frescoes and tapestries that he knew she would find disquieting. He had provided her with slaves, young and unbroken for the most part, and had given her more freedom in his domain than any mortal had ever dreamed of having.

He had not expected her to like Thalamia overmuch, not to begin with. But he hoped, in time, that she would see the inevitable beauty of the city that he had built. He glanced up, and up again, to see the twin domes that had been carved and painted in the stone of this chamber. _Beauty?_

His feet made no sound as he turned and walked slowly to his throne, his human conceit. Five long, marble steps led up to it, and no other ever stood on the gold inlay of patterned floor that it crowned.

The priests were not happy about her presence; two had even gone so far as to question his command. He smiled grimly. Only two.

The smile vanished.

What he had done for her did not matter; he could almost wish that the trip to his capital had taken many months instead of barely two. She would no longer eat with him and would speak very little when he arrived.

Almost wearily he sat in the contours of velvet, gold, and wood, his elbows touching smooth, hard armrests, his fingers making a steeple beneath his chin, his crimson hair framing his handsome face. He had thought long on these things, and no answers had come. He hated to be in ignorance.

He heard the rapping at the double doors that the priests used to enter and twisted his hand viciously. They swung open, revealing three people at the head of the hall that stretched into torchlit darkness.

Kaoru stared at him, quavering and defiant, flanked on either side by priests. She was bleeding, the white of her dress already a deep, gorgeous crimson.

The sight of the blood as it trailed down her arm and side enraged him. The sight of the Yamidarians priests, holding the chains that bound her wrists, filled him with a cold, wordless fury that even she could feel. She took an involuntary step back and the chains at her wrists grew taut.

The priests dragged her into the room.

"Lord." One of the men gave a deferential bow. The coppery thread of his robes winked in the light, revealing his rank. "This guest tried to interrupt the ceremony in the palace temple."

"Did interrupt it." Kaoru's voice, slightly shaky, carried an immeasurable wealth of satisfaction and pain, her raven hair was unbound, trailing to her waist and making a remarkable contrast to the red and white of her dress. "Just not as much as I'd—"

The man who had not stepped forward slapped her across the face, wiping the smile away. His face was red, the only trace of that colour he wore. A lowly Acolyte, then.

The priest who had spoken looked down at his captive with a flash of annoyance before continuing. Kenshin recognized him: Tetsuma, one of the junior priests in the palace. The other man did not merit recognition.

"As she wears your mark, Lord, we thought it best to inform you of her crime before meting out the punishment it has earned."

_One week. One week, little one, and you have already brought battle to my home._

"Continue." His voice was a poor indicator of the emotions that were raging within him.

Tetsuma looked carefully at the neutral mask of the Servant he addressed, then turned and whispered a few words to the acolyte. The younger man dragged Kaoru to her feet, where she swayed slightly before gritting her teeth. She would not meet the Servant's eyes.

"I see that my mark did not prevent you from damaging her."

"I regret to say, Lord, that we did not cause her wounds. The guards did manage to interrupt her before she could call a full Light ward against us."

Almost perceptibly the tension ebbed out of the Servant. _Light Wards in Thalamia, Kaoru?_

"I see."

A trace of relief crossed Tetsuma's face. "I have come to request your permission to continue the ceremony with the help of this young woman."

"Denied."

"But Lord, she's a Noranen—" the acolyte began, outrage twisting his features.

"Craden!" Tetsuma hissed. The acolyte fell silent, his eyes smouldering with anger and confusion. He yanked at the chains and Kaoru nearly fell forward.

"I might add, Lord, that two of the Yamidarians she fought are near death—or dead."

"Denied."

"As you command, Lord."

Kenshin smiled slightly. Tetsuma was ambitious, but also perceptive. That was not uncommon among the half bloods. But he was cautious without being cowed, and this was rare. _A pity that he is not a more senior member of the Church. I shall have to alter that state of affairs._

His gaze, as it touched the acolyte, was glacial. This man, on the other hand, was a fool; the type of fool that he tired of seeing make its way into the hierarchy.

"The worshipers, Tetsuma?"

"Under control, Lord. But it would be best to continue the ceremonies as soon as possible."

"Agreed. You acted with considerable circumspection and speed. Preside over the ceremony."

Tetsuma showed no hint of the pleasure that the Servant's command had given him. His face, smooth and placid, gave little away.

"As you command."

"Tell Geslik that it is a personal request of mine; I'm sure the high priest will understand."

At this the faint trace of a smile did touch Tetsuma's lips; it was gone before it became substantial.

"He will understand that it is your desire, Lord."

"Very good."

"And the woman, Lord?"

"Leave her with me. I shall make sure that she does not interrupt your mass in the future."

The priest bowed again, a low, crisp salute. As he turned to leave, Kenshin smiled softly. "Your acolyte did not have the wisdom not to restrain his hand when he knew she bore my colours. I am certain he would nonetheless be happy to grace the altars of the God he serves."

Guards had to be called to escort the acolyte out. Kenshin oversaw the proceedings with a cold amusement. It was a fitting fate for one who, in his presence, had dared lift a hand against one who was under his protection.

Kaoru kept her head bowed in her hands until the door closed on the pitiful sounds of the young man's pleas. She was tired of tears; it seemed to her that she had done nothing but shed them since her arrival in Thalamia, this ugly, dark city. Nonetheless, tears trailed down her pale cheeks. She had not had any sleep in the past two days; the sounds of screaming echoed through her as if the ceremonies were being performed at the foot of her bed. And the slaves were afraid of her, and that hurt. In the heart of the Enemy's empire, everything she could do caused death, and yet to do nothing—to do nothing was worse.

She looked up to meet the unwavering eyes of the Servant.

"Come here, Kaoru."

Wordless, she walked to the dais. Her feet were unsteady but she made no effort to heal her wounds. Maybe this time he would be angry enough to call an end to it. Maybe she had done enough with her attempted ward to make him realize that she was, irrevocably, his enemy.

Kenshin's throne seemed impossibly high and far, but she forced her feet to cover the cold, hard marble as she mounted the steps. He did not rise to offer aid; waiting in his impeccable black robes, he was every inch the king. He waited. She came.

Inches away from the throne itself, she paused, numb with hope and fear as he reached out to touch the steel that bound her wrists.

The manacles snapped audibly and fell away in his hands.

"Your freedom."

She looked down at the rawness of skin that showed that she had struggled too hard against her chains. He caught her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes.

"Can you not leave well enough alone?"

She wanted to be angry; to feel again the righteous wrath that had been hers from the time of her investiture. She pulled weakly away from him, and he let her go, in search of the fire that had vanished. She took a breath, then another, deeper one, and began to speak. She would not look back at him.

"Kenshin, Servant, Nightwalker—whatever you are." The words trembled out of her lips; try as she might, she could not give them the force they merited. "Were it well, I would leave it, and gladly. But I cannot walk these halls without knowing that by night people die—people whom I might save with the blood of my birth. I'm the Kaoru of Noria."

"You are of the blood, yes. But you are lost to Noria now, and those that die are not numbered among your people. Do not let them concern you. There is nothing you can do."

Just as, she thought bitterly, I could do nothing for my mother. And it was worse here. The screaming never stopped. Late at night, she could no longer tell the difference between reality and memory.

"Power such as mine is only granted for one reason—to protect those with less, against yours."

"Power such as yours? Kaoru, if the power that you wield is too great a responsibility, I will take it from you; you may then have peace, knowing that there is nothing at all that you can do."

She wheeled then, her hands coming up automatically between them, fingers awkwardly beginning their inimical dance in the air. Less frantically, but no less quickly, he mirrored her gestures. Still, he did not rise.

"Why will you not just accept what is? You have done as you will in my domain. I have exacted no price for actions that would be the death of any other."

"Why? I am your enemy here!"

"It does little harm." His voice was calm.

She was speechless for a few moments; the colour drained out of her face and returned as a darker red.

He sighed as she stood trembling with contained fury. Fury, yes, but his blood-sense lingered over the familiar taste of despair and guilt as well, which dominated her. It was heady.

"Kenshin, please, finish this! Let me go to my people, or let me die—I don't care if it's a clean death anymore; I don't care if it's on your damned altars."

"Is it only death that you seek, Lady?"

"I don't have to seek it," was her bitter reply. "It comes all around me." All around, yes, but never did it come to her.

He watched her stiffen. _Why not have an end?_ Why not kill her now, or lay her out on the altar of the Dark Lord and set the minds of the priests at rest? Why not remove from himself all trace of the ambiguity that she evoked by presence alone?

Indeed.

But when he spoke, all he said was. "No. I will never release you. You will never leave."

He was not prepared for the speed of her answer, unaware until the moment the steel touched _her_ flesh of the desperation behind the set of her lips. He did not pause to wonder where she had gotten a knife; if she had asked for it, it would not have been denied her. With a wordless cry of frustration he leaped to catch her as she crumpled. His hands on her shoulders were rough, but after a few seconds he became aware that he could not shake life into her on command. His hands curled around the handle of the knife and pulled it out, calling on power to hold her blood in—a particularly difficult task for a Nightwalker. The knife had missed being fatal by very little.

"It hurts." Her eyes were wide, young eyes. They cut him, as the knife had cut her, but less cleanly. Her pain was subtle and beautiful, but he still did not desire her death.

He swept her up and headed into the hall. The irony of the situation was bitter. His power was not of the kind that encompassed healing; that was the domain of the Noranen and the Servants of the Bright Lord. Any such who might once have existed in his domains were long dead.

"This will please the priests, Kaoru," he said through gritted teeth. "But I have already given you my word. I will not release you."

He looked at her as he walked, flinching at the shadows in her eyes. On impulse, his fingers stroked her brow gently, too gently for Kaoru to bear. She had never felt so helpless, never felt so lost or so trapped. She retreated into the black of unconsciousness.

* * *

><p>Physicians saved Kaoru's life, thereby guaranteeing their own for a time.<p>

She woke to spare, curtained twilight in a large, empty room. The ceilings were flat and plain, unlike the broad, wood beams and vaulted domes of her own quarters. The walls were gray rock, unadorned by windows, fireplace, or colour. A man stood over her. She was momentarily confused, but disorientation gave way to memory.

"You're the Kaoru of Noria." His brows, as they drew together, were a winter frost with large streaks of black that hovered over his pale, brown eyes.

With a wan, cautious smile, she nodded.

The man ignored the offering of her smile. "I'm the former royal physician of Kerwin. "

Kerwin, the small kingdom Kenshin had defeated and subjugated.

Her look cooled in response to his.

"They don't make you a warrior for nothing—or so I've been led to believe." There was an edge of anger in his words that Kaoru didn't understand. He waited for a response, but realizing that none was forthcoming, he went on. "Are you proud of that?" He gestured to the ugly welt below her breast, and she suddenly realized that she was unclothed. Blushing, she pulled up the thin covers. He gave the action a bitter smile. "Are you?"

Numbly she stared at him, her confusion evident.

He was not impressed. His broad arms covered the front of the large white apron he wore over a stiff, red tunic.

"If you're going to play stupid," he said cuttingly, "I'll be more specific. Are you proud of the fact that you tried to kill yourself?"

She balled her hands into the bed covers.

As if reading her mind, he continued. "You failed. And before you go off wailing in self-pity, I want you to know what your success would have cost: my life, the lives of my four assistants, and quite probably the lives of our families. And our deaths wouldn't have been nearly as clean or painless as yours." He paused again, waiting.

Kaoru closed her eyes. _More death_. _Bright Lord, everything I do in this cursed empire causes nothing but death. When will I be free of it?_

She was unprepared for the strength of the large, rough hands that gripped her shoulders, shaking her eyes open.

"Damn you! If he'd wanted you for the blood ceremonies, we would have let you die. We'd have accepted our fate in exchange for yours—the warriors of Noria are our only hope and we owe them that much! But it isn't your death the Servant wants. The priests have demanded it, but he has refused."

"Leave me alone!"

"No!" But when he saw the flicker of response that broke through her numb silence, he let his hands fall away and stepped back to look at her.

"Kaoru –right?- how old are you?"

Dimly she replied, "Seventeen soon."

He shook his head and brought a trembling hand up to massage his wrinkled temple. He walked the length of the room, his steps, like his words, terse and pointed.

"You're very young, then." He spoke as if to himself. "But you've been in battle?"

She nodded.

"Often?"

"Yes."

"And won." It was not a question.

She looked away. "Yes. You only fail once."

"Usually that means death?"

"Yes."

He hated the passivity of her answer.

"Then why aren't you already dead? Why are you trying to take your own life like this?"

"I don't know!"

"You're lying." He'd seen enough of people to know that much. He walked back to the foot of the bed. "Kaoru, if you aren't the rescue we've been praying for, you owe us at least an answer. Why?"

She looked up to see the long brand on his right forearm. Like the rest, he was a slave. And he was right.

But it wasn't easy to give voice to her fears.

"I've been a warrior for almost three years now."

He was quiet.

"I've fought so many battles—I've always been so proud of that, of being able to defeat the enemy on any field that I could reach." She cast back. "I remember—I remember my first battle. I wasn't as sure of myself as I am . . .

"If you could have seen all the death—if you could have seen what had been done with the villages that had tried to stand in the way of their army—"

Bitterly, but no more softly, the physician said, "I have."

She looked up at him then, as if clearly seeing him for the first time. She held out one hand, and after a brief hesitation he took it.

"But I have power, more power than any warrior in Noria possesses, but it wasn't enough. Nothing I did was enough."

He said nothing.

"Before my first battle, Lord Sagara, Second of the Bright Lord, came to see me."

Kaoru's voice trailed off.

_Back then, I didn't understand._

"What did he say?"

"I am not sure..." she was shivering, "No that's a lie...I think I do. The gist of it is this: That in all darkness that exists now, there is some element of the light, and in the light, darkness." With a sharp, sudden motion, she freed her hand and brought it up to her cheek. Face beneath her hand, she stopped speaking for a moment.

She saw again the radiance of Lord Sagara's face; the distant look of pity and some other thing unnamed and unknown.

_I hadn't understood..._

The physician rose and took a step back, turning his face to a blank wall. Kaoru didn't notice.

"But he said the road walked would be hard, harder than anything I could ever imagine. And I didn't understand.

"I only understood him when he spoke of necessity. When he told me that I alone of all Noria shall posses the strongest power ever given to my kind and could face the task that lay ahead, I was afraid and I was proud. I wanted to believe that I could be as good as other initiates, just once. That I could finally prove worthy of being an adult."

"Kaoru, what did he say?"

Kaoru shook her head, remembering an awful night, the night her mother had died. "It's not what he said, it's what I heard him say to the Third Servant of the Light, Lord Hiko." And Kaoru could remember it clearly, that conversation. She was supposed to be sleeping, both were ignorant that she had heard every word that was said. She had never understood their words or put much weight on them...until she had met Kenshin.

"I heard that the First Servant of the Light, Lady Kamiya, had looked into the future; that she had seen a time when one of Noria might pull, from darkness, a lasting light. She said that this was Noria's Hope. And I thought she meant that through the light, through the Noranen, all darkness might finally die, through war. I thought . . ." She stopped.

"_The Lady told me; little Kaoru must walk the road between Dark and Light. And she, of the Light, must take that path, knowing that light casts its shadows, and that they lie at times in places that no eyes can see._

_"She could not speak of what she had seen, but she had seen this: that Kaoru, and she alone of all Noria, may one day pull from the darkness a lasting light. If the Bright Lord has a hope, it is this: the end of the war that destroys so many, blooded and gray._

_"And thus she named her Noria's Hope."_

Gently, without looking at her, he spoke. "Kaoru, what is your fear?"

"I know—I know what the Lady and Sagara meant now. I don't want to know it, but I do." Her blue eyes were large and fearful. "You see, for some reason I don't understand, the Servant—Kenshin—listens to me. I can sometimes ask him for mercy, and he'll grant it. Not always." Her voice fell again. "On the march here, he never fed."

The physician's eyes widened with a wonder and a fear that he kept from the Kaoru.

"So, for no reason, I have an effect. And I'm afraid that if the light can truly touch, truly change the darkness, then what can this darkness, stronger and older, do to the light?"

"And death is easier than facing the answer to that question?" His voice was harsh, but he kept his face turned away so that she would not see what was upon it.

In a simple, stark voice, she said, "I thought so."

"And now?"

"I don't know. Can you understand that? I don't know. What if I stay here, as he wants me to, and I grow numb enough, or changed enough, to hear the cries and the screams of the blood ceremonies without flinching—without even caring? What if I lose my sense of what I am and feel only relief that the victims on the altars aren't me? Can't you see how that's worse than any physical death, no matter how long or painful?

"And there's more." Now that she had started, she couldn't stop. "What if, by drawing out some semblance of humanity from a Servant of the Enemy, I lose sight of the evil beneath the façade? What if I learn to . . ."

"What?"

She started, choked, stopped, and with great care began again. "What if I'm the one who changes?"

He turned to her then, hearing the end of the sentence that she had not completed. "Kaoru, you must be stronger than you know for Lady of Kamiya to make the choice that she did. Have you no faith in the First of the Bright Lord?"

"It isn't—"

"It is. Sometimes hope is the refuge of fools and those who won't face reality. Sometimes hope is more than that—but the cost is high. When you became a warrior, you accepted the price for the power you were given. Don't prove false to your rank."

He could see tears begin to trace her cheeks, and he could see by the light of her eyes that she was fighting to contain them. He watched her a few moments, then began again, taking a different tack.

"Kaoru, do this, not for yourself, not for us; we're lost and we know it. Do this for the future; do this knowing that you will be the hope of those yet unborn or untouched by the Enemy's hand. For hope we will risk much, but consider this: If you succeed, we have gained more than either of us can know.

"Kaoru, we will rely on you."

The tears came freely as Kaoru cursed them. _I don't deserve the luxury of tears. I haven't earned them. _There was so much that she hadn't earned. But they fell anyway, and with them, resistance. She curled her arms around her body, bending forward into the sheets.

_Mother, mother, had you lived, had you stayed with me, would you have guided me?_

This thought was unexpected and caused more tears to flow down her pale cheeks.

The physician watched her, torn. Silently he moved over to where she sat and reached out to touch her shoulder.

She didn't hear him move, too wrapped in her own care and fear to notice his. In turn, touched by her misery, he did not hear the door open, unaware when someone entered the room until hands gripped his neck. He was hauled backward and off his feet, then turned around to face the golden eyes of the First Servant. The grip on his throat was too tight to allow for words; his eyes bulged slightly as his breath was cut off.

"What do you think you are doing, physician?"

The man's lips moved silently. His hands ineffectually struggled with the Servant's grip.

"You were brought to save Kaoru's life. You were not required to add to her pain." The Servant's hands tightened almost casually around the physician's neck. His eyes were a deep, livid amber. "A pity that one so skilled at his allotted task should prove so unfortunately—"

"Kenshin."

Slowly, without releasing his victim, the Servant met Kaoru's gaze. The cold taste of anger faded as he read the rimmed blue of her eyes.

"Kaoru," he said gravely. "This man has obviously caused you distress."

"No."

"No?"

She smiled wanly. "Your hearing isn't as good as it was on our march here."

The look her comment evoked was a mixture of curiosity and, oddly, pleasure. Not since her arrival in Thalamia had she even attempted to speak with humour. He was surprised to note that he'd almost missed it.

"No, then. But if not this slave, then what?"

In a clear, quiet voice, she said, "Thalamia."

The physician fell to the ground. He brought shaking hands up to massage the five red lines that circled his throat.

The sound of his rasping breath brought a strange feeling to Kaoru. He was alive; she had asked for that.

_You've saved his life, Kaoru, but for what? For the altars of the Enemy? For some painful servitude under a twisted noble? For a long, lingering, echo of life?_

She pushed the bitter thought away firmly.

_No._ He said it for himself: _I saved his life for the hope of a better one—for hope_.

_At what cost? Will you risk all you've been and believed in for something so nebulous?_

_Yes. Fully, completely, finally, Yes. I'll be the glimmer of light in the darkness of this empire. I'll do what I can, as I can, to alleviate the suffering I see around me. I'll be cruel enough to keep hope alive._

"Kaoru?"

"Yes?"

"Would it trouble you if I remained?"

"No."

He started to speak, but Kaoru interrupted him. "Doctor?"

"Kaoru?" His voice was still weak.

"Thank you."

The doctor gave her a very shaky bow. _I hope that I've done right by you, Kaoru. You're very young. _But he felt, as he watched her, the faintest glimmer of pride.

The Servant's curt dismissal did nothing to alter the warmth he felt as he hurriedly left the room.

_A warrior of the Noria walks among us yet._

Noria's hope.

* * *

><p>Kenshin's empire is a twisted place of pain and death, and Kaoru will see more.<p>

Enishi and Tomoe might appear next chapter, and I will have to begin introducing the sexual tension between Kenshin and Kaoru. Of course Kenshin will gradually want more of her, and as to Kaoru's reaction to those attentions, you will have to wait. I'm evil, I know.

Thanks to all those who reviewed, I love you!


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

"What is this?" The staccato beat of the words crackled through the still air. These chambers were second in importance only to the Lord's own, but they were much more finely appointed. Gold glimmered everywhere, on floor, wall, fireplace, and furniture. The inlay had been most costly; the rooms were not small.

Tetsuma bowed as the high priest, Geslik, looked up from his duties. He was a fastidious man, but during the more energetic activities performed even he could forget himself; little splatters of blood showed along his throat.

"The First, High Priest." He handed him a sealed note.

"And it cannot wait?"

Tetsuma looked down at the disfigured body that lay in the rounded groove of the floor. Wrists and ankles had been fastened to metal rings sunk into the marble, but they showed no movement. "I would not be here otherwise."

Geslik frowned; he disliked the tenor of the younger man's voice almost as much as he mistrusted his sudden rise within the hierarchy of the Church. He held out one red hand without further comment, and Tetsuma dutifully deposited the message. He then took a respectful step back, but did not leave the room. He had not been dismissed, and he was curious.

He watched as the red seal was broken by fingers still damp, as the scroll unfurled, and the color drained slowly from the high priest's face.

I warned you, he thought, but wisely held his peace. Not yet could he afford to antagonize Geslik.

"Call my guard." The high priest set the note aside. "Now."

"As you command." Tetsuma bowed again and left the room to follow his superior's orders. He went quickly to the south wing of the palace and summoned six of the Swords; the high priest had, by custom, twenty-four. Some day they would be his.

He followed them to the high priest's chambers, pausing along the way to alert the rest of the council's thirteen members.

"In fifteen minutes we meet in the outer chamber of the high priest."

They looked surprised, for the council was not due to meet for a fortnight, but they nodded and readied themselves.

Geslik had already taken the opportunity to reattire himself. Instead of temple black, he wore his full dress garments, with their high, red shoulders and one red slash across both front and back. He also wore the circlet.

"Tetsuma."

"High Priest, how may I serve?"

Geslik raised an eyebrow, but Tetsuma's words were harmless. "Summon the rest of the Greater Cabal."

"It is done." Tetsuma's bow was punctuation for the crisp, quick reply.

"Then take your seat in the council chambers. We have a matter of great urgency that must be dealt with immediately."

Tetsuma nodded again and walked to the far end of the room. He paused beneath the arch of the twin doors and looked at the long, empty table, with its thirteen chairs. The high-backed one was the only one he coveted; he was not fool enough to take it yet. He waited.

* * *

><p>"You made all of this?" Kaoru looked up, her face almost at a right angle to the rest of her body.<p>

"Not all." Kenshin replied, as he stood in the shadows of the pillars in the main courtyards. Daylight was almost gone, and soon he could walk freely by the little one's side. In the meantime, he studied her from where he stood. She still carried herself stiffly but she was almost recovered from the wound that had nearly stolen her from him.

She was glancing quizzically back at him, and he studied the plains of her face; he could still see them perfectly.

"No, Kaoru." He smiled. "No human hands designed or built the foundations; even these arches are not the product of mortal labour." He gestured toward the east wing. "But Saito built that; and even now, when he wanders it, he destroys any new additions—unless they are mine."

"Saito?"

"The Third of the Dark Lord. No, the name means little to you because he does not choose often to roam the mortal world. He is different from the rest of Dark Lord's Servants."

"Mortal worlds?"

"Ah." He smiled. "There are three 'worlds' that you know of, although only one is available to you. The hand of the Bright Lord, the hand of the Dark Lord, and the body of the two."

She nodded.

"There are, or so Saito tells me, others—stranger than the three, with their own odd laws. It does not trouble me; only Saito has had the patience and time to find the pathways to them."

He walked toward her, risking the touch of the sun's last rays. They were uncomfortable, but weaker in their dying than they were in their beginning.

"But come, you have not seen all of my palace—and only the smallest portion of my lands." He saw her face darken slightly, but she nodded. He couldn't help but smile; his order must already have reached the high priest, and from this eve on, Kaoru would know some measure of peace within his walls.

But he did not tell her; not yet. Rather, as she discovered the architecture and glory of his palace, he wished her to learn it for herself. They began to walk side by side down the long, tall cloisters.

* * *

><p>Geslik placed the scroll on the council table. "This is the reason I have summoned you."<p>

Serlin, the second most senior member of the Church, raised an eyebrow over the near black of his eyes; he was strong of blood, but old. "The seal of the First. Is there a great danger from the front?"

"It is worse than that." Geslik leaned forward, his eyes darkening. "The First Servant requires us to cease all blood ceremonies within the confines of his palace."

Only Tetsuma had any suspicion of the news, but even he fell silent as it was confirmed for the first time. As ever, he kept his own counsel.

Serlin found voice first. "Pardon?"

"It is as I said." Geslik handed the offending scroll to Serlin. "Read it if you cannot believe it. You will find it bears his mark."

Normally Serlin would have bypassed such an offer, but the import of Geslik's message did not allow it. He scanned the document, pausing at the last to note the faint glow of the Lord's mark. The scroll fluttered gently to the table.

"Why?" he asked, visibly shaken. "The Church's heart is within the south wing of the palace. It is here that the nobility comes to worship; it is here that we deal with the blooded leaders. He cannot expect—"

"He can," Geslik replied bitterly. "He has."

"Surely God cannot allow—" A new voice broke in, younger but harsher, as befitted the craggy face that accompanied it.

"Don't be a fool, Morden. The Dark Lord does not interfere with the general of his forces."

"But why would the Lord choose to cripple His Church in this fashion?"

Uncomfortable glances were exchanged as the question remained unanswered.

* * *

><p>"Little one."<p>

She turned her face away from the open breeze that touched her raven hair. "Yes?"

"Do you see the lights of my city?"

She nodded. His face, with its graceful features never ceased to enchant."Yes. But they look so far away."

He smiled. "It is the effect of the spires; they are very tall." He was not sure why he added the last piece of information; it was obvious by the way she gripped the stone that she was aware of it.

"It isn't just the height," she answered softly. "Noria—my home—has more light than this, though I doubt it's a tenth of the size."

"It is smaller, yes. Less grand than my work."

She fought the urge to reply immediately and found it less difficult than she had expected. "It's darker here."

"Yes. But I do not need the light to see by."

"Oh."

"Would you care to see more of the city?"

"Now?" she asked, looking doubtfully into the dark night sky.

"It is the only time I can show it to you."

"Oh." It was true, of course. But to wander the heart of the empire she'd fought so long against, by the side of its ruler . . . She pulled back from the edge. "I—yes. Yes."

She turned to walk back to the large door and froze as he touched her arm.

"This way, Kaoru."

She drew back, and he let her go.

"And if she is not the cause, what is?"

"But she's only a Noranen—and he is the First of God. He could not—"

"He can do whatever he wishes. He has the power for it."

"He cannot wish to allow this—this taint to corrupt the Church. It is not within the realm of the believable."

"Then what else can be the cause of it? She is here, yes." Geslik frowned, recalling the moment of elation he had felt upon first seeing her. That had vanished as soon as the First Servant had made clear that she was not to be given to him. "And she is not dead. She has not graced the altars of God."

"No."

"I begin to believe there is truth to the rumours." All heads turned to face Tetsuma, who had so far been silent.

"Rumours?" Geslik said testily.

"Among the Swords. The bishop that accompanied the army attempted to secure the girl's death. He failed, purchasing his own in the bargain."

"She killed him?"

"No. The First did." Tetsuma paused for effect. "During the dawn."

Silence then.

The streets were dark, darker than she could have imagined from the heights of the spires. Buildings pressed in at all sides, impossibly tall, impossibly close. She thought them stone, for the most part, with wood used occasionally as an afterthought, but there was little grass, little tree cover, and no forest voices to lessen the night. Kaoru walked slowly, letting her feet touch uneven cobblestone before taking a firm step. Here and there lamplight made circles upon the ground, but they were small, and Kenshin avoided them.

"Kaoru, do you see this?"

"Not clearly. It looks like a square."

"It is. And around it, statues that commemorate—" He stopped as she stumbled again. "Why do you not call your light, little one?"

She looked back in the direction of his voice. "Because I know it makes you uncomfortable." And I don't know if I could stop with light, not here.

Her answer surprised him, as she so often could. He reached out, touching her right shoulder with his left hand.

She froze again and he released her.

"I see," he said, as if to himself. Very slowly, he held out his arm. "Would it trouble you to accept my aid?"

She looked at the arm he offered. Hesitantly, she touched it with her hand as if skimming the edge of a finely honed blade. She was shaking.

"Little one, you have nothing to fear."

He had said it so often, but in this darkness that was almost complete, she thought she might believe it—perhaps because she wanted to. Her grip was tentative and shaky, but she held on to him as he began to walk toward the center of the square.

He stared down at her, his vision giving him the advantage. Her lip was between her teeth, her blue eyes bright, but she walked within the reach of his shadow. She had accepted his guidance.

"Here." He stopped in front of the foremost statue. "This is representative of the Second of the Dark Lord." At that time Kaoru didn't pay close attention.

She shook her head. "I can't quite make it out."

"Touch it, then. Let your fingers see what your eyes will not."

She hesitated, and he touched her hand, gently guiding it forward.

"These," he said, as her fingers ran along smooth, worn stone, "are how the mortals see us."

"Cold," Kaoru whispered, "and hard. Are they red?"

"No. No more than you are pale blue. No more than you are the light." He drew her away, knowing that she was disturbed again. There must be something in his city that would truly please her.

* * *

><p>"And I must warn you again, High Priest," Tetsuma said, bowing his head respectfully, "that your idea is not a wise or prudent one."<p>

"We have no choice." Geslik stood, signalling an end to the meeting.

Tetsuma ignored this; a breach of etiquette, but not, he hoped, a dangerous one.

"The Lord must have some plan for her that he does not wish to share with us."

Geslik frowned slightly—a bad sign. "What of it? If he wishes to play his games with the Noranen girl, he would be wise to restrict them to matters that do not affect the Church."

No one spoke. Each of the council members avoided the eyes of the others. To thwart the First Servant was never wise. But to cancel the blood ceremonies was also unthinkable; it would cost them too much of the power they needed.

"It is decided, then. In three days?"

Only Tetsuma spoke. "I caution—"

"Good."

Thus dismissed, Tetsuma did not care to speak further. He heard the high priest call his Swords and command them to bring five of the slaves from the east wing.

Three days. Tetsuma thought carefully on all of his options, then nodded quietly to himself. Perhaps this was a good time to visit the lands of his family.

But first he had one duty to attend to.

* * *

><p>It was just after midnight when they returned to the palace. Kaoru was silent; she drifted across the threshold of the gates as a ghost might. The road to the palace proper stretched on nearly half a mile.<p>

"Kaoru."

She looked away from him. She hadn't realized how hard it would be to wander through Thalamia, with its isolated meager light; to know where the nobility lived, in grand and glorious mansions; and know that there, too, dwelled the slaves that had once been free under the protection of the lines.

"Kaoru." His voice, for all its quiet, held the chill of the dark.

She looked up warily as she passed the gate. Here, at least, light shone in abundance, reflecting the red slash across the black armour of the Swords. No ordinary guards, these. She eyed them warily, but they gave no notice of her passing; she was with the First Servant.

"What—what time is it?"

"Midnight."

She tensed visibly. He thought she might speak; she started to. But she bit back the words and walked on.

Midnight. The time for the ceremonies. She almost asked him to take her back to the city outside of his walls. It was easier in that darkness to imagine that her companion was human. She did not ask it. She was a Noranen, and in this land she could not dare to ignore the true meaning of darkness.

She listened; she couldn't help it. Even in the north wing, the screams could still reach her. She had become known for her hearing among the line with good reason.

There was silence. It stretched on, like a fabric pulled so taut it had to tear. And she walked along the edge of it, waiting.

The First Servant escorted her back to her rooms. "I have taken the liberty of ordering a meal that we might both partake of. Would it trouble you if I remained?"

She didn't answer. How could it not "trouble" her? How could she eat with the sound of the dying playing its dissonant chords in the background?

She walked, the edge growing fine and sharp beneath her feet, her bright eyes shadowed.

_I made my choice._

But it was hard. She had only managed to stay abed these last few days because she was too weak for combat. But tonight-tonight she should—

_I made my choice._

She stopped when he did, realizing that they stood outside her rooms—rooms, so grand and glorious, that had probably housed priests or visiting nobility. Open these doors, and the richness of dark wood, with old, perfect chairs and low tables, would greet her eyes. Beyond that another room, with a fireplace that slaves attended to, and a dining hall, with twin doors that led to a bedroom more spacious than her house had been.

Everything that she had ever learned strained against her control. Soon it would start again. Soon, the priests would have their rituals, their blood, and their slow, agonizing death—and they would gain power from it, power to spread the law of the Dark Lord.

She leaned her forehead against the door, biting down on her lip until she drew blood.

"Kaoru?"

She turned, then, her eyes blazing in the darkness. He took a step back, but went no further.

Her hands fell to her sides rigidly, ending in small fists. And around her, in his eyes alone, the light twisted and buckled. No. He reached out to touch her; she drew back, hitting the door with the force of the step.

He knew what words would calm her, then. Although he had hoped she might discern this for herself, perhaps it was better; this way he might see the easing of the light that looked so strangled.

"Little one." He touched her trembling jaw and she drew her head up, the way a horse might, in anger or fear. "There will be no ceremonies this eve."

He waited, watching for some sign from her. There was none, her sapphire eyes remained troubled and after a moment he continued. "There will be none in the palace from this day forward." He drew back as the light continued to twist, _Perhaps_, he thought, as he watched her face, _I was wrong_.

But no, the light suddenly surged; it grew stronger, touching even the lines of her face as her eyes grew slowly wide.

"Would it trouble you if I remained?"

She stared up at him, her head moving slowly from side to side, her mouth wide.

"No ceremonies?" she whispered. "No blooding of the altars?"

"None, little one. None, where you are present."

As if cut from her supports, she staggered forward, her arms reaching for him.

She felt the darkness that lay beneath velvet within the circle of her arms. To her surprise, there was nothing cold about it. It had been a long time since she had hugged anyone; a long time since strong arms had circled her shoulders in return.

_Thank you._ But she could not say it, not yet.

He felt the touch of her light and smiled. That smile remained as she pulled back, looking suddenly at the ground, her feet, the wall—anything but him.

"Dinner?" he asked quietly, as he opened the door to her rooms.

She nodded, still unable to meet his eyes.

This did not bother him. The light shone, this night, for him; it was his. As, in the end, she will be his.

* * *

><p>That night, he fed for the first time in nearly two months. He waited until the Kaoru slept and drifted out of her room, each step taken as if in time to the even, shallow intake of her breath.<p>

He chose, from the dungeons of his palace, a young man for his purposes. The smell of the man's fear pulled at him as the Swords delivered his chosen to the east wing. It had been too long.

He stepped quickly into his personal chambers. They were utterly black, without the taint of even the faintest hint of light, natural or no. He preferred this; only here, without the presence of mortals or the meager torches they carried, did he care to relax and take his pleasure.

"Here." The word came from the darkness that light couldn't travel into.

The Swords nodded in silence. He approved of this; whether they were half blood or no, they felt no pity or sympathy for the human they dragged into death. They forced the struggling human to the brink of the darkness and threw him in. Then they withdrew, the captain's salute crisp and respectful.

The Servant of the Dark Heart crossed the threshold, already stalking his prey. Anticipation curled his lips over the sharp points of his teeth. He could feel the screams shudder through him as the door closed behind his back.

* * *

><p>Tetsuma stood in the dimly lit hall. He could only barely hear the screams that came from behind the closed door; they were shorter, though no less intense, than the ones that usually came from the Lord's chambers.<p>

He waited, glancing around from time to time. His blood was strong enough to allow him to see the detailed work of stone statues that stood posted as a warning at the single, stone door to his Lord's chambers. They were human in shape, one female, one male, and each face arid body was contorted in silent agony—simple work; an elegant statement. He turned again and looked down the long stretch of halls that ended with stairs leading upward.

It was absolutely vital that no other eyes saw him here. But rare indeed was the message that would cause any priest to wait outside these doors for long; he looked in vain before turning back to wait.

He wondered how long the First Servant had been thus ensconced. He did not have much time; his coach was already waiting and prepared to carry him to the Valens estate to the south of the city. It was risky, this choice, but seemed to augur best for the future. If he had judged the Servant correctly, his warning would gain him much, not the least of which was permanent relief from Geslik's stupidity and arrogance.

He heard another scream, but again it was quiet; almost subdued. It choked away into silence, as it had done several times. But this time the silence held.

Tetsuma waited. Often the Servant gave his victim some respite, to play upon a hope and relief he could then use to his advantage. And only once in history had anyone interrupted the Lord before he had finished his feeding. Tetsuma gave an involuntary shudder at the thought of that fool's fate. Especially now, when he could understand how such a mistake might be made.

He counted time by the heartbeat.

At last, when he was as confident as he could be, he knocked lightly on the Lord's door.

It swung open smoothly and silently into a darkness that even Tetsuma's Yamidarian eyes could not easily penetrate. Outlined by the door, the priest gave a very low, very respectful bow. It was one of the few times that he meant everything that the gesture implied. But he waited at the door; very few willingly crossed into the First's territory, and Tetsuma was not one of them.

"Tetsuma." The voice that came out of the darkness was low, almost feral in quality.

Tetsuma prayed seldom; he prayed now.

"Lord." He kept his own voice as steady as he could.

The First Servant materialized inches away from his bowed head. Tetsuma did not look up; he had not yet been granted leave, and here of all places protocol was essential.

"Be at ease, priest—if you can."

No human eyes would have seen the signs that Tetsuma displayed as he relaxed. But human notice was not his concern here. He looked up and saw the First Servant as few saw him: after the glory of feeding. His entire form, shadowed and dark, glowed with the red of the power he'd gained. But his eyes, _God his eyes, _were molten gold.

"Why have you come?"

Tetsuma did not look away from the red glow of the Lord's eyes. "To render a service."

Low laughter answered him. "You think to be of service to _me_?" The laughter ceased abruptly. "Call the Swords, then. Have them dispose of the body." He turned and started to dissolve into darkness.

"Lord, a moment, please."

The Servant turned again. "Yes?" he asked softly.

"I have—I have delivered the message you left with me." He almost took a step back then, for the smile that the Servant gave was dangerous.

"I see. "

"The high priest called council for it."

"What of it? The council is of little concern to me."

"To you, Lord, no." Tetsuma drew himself up. "But to the Noranen female . . ." He watched as the Servant froze.

"Kaoru?" Darkness limned in red stepped forward; an arm reached out of the mist as if that were all that remained of a dissolving body. Tetsuma did nothing to avoid the hand that grabbed his robes and held them in a vise.

"Yes, Lord," he answered, playing as close to the edge as he dared. "I would have informed you at a time more convenient to you, but I find it expedient to visit the estates of House Valens, and I leave at dawn."

The grip tightened. "Priest." The word was a sibilant whisper; there was a death in it.

Tetsuma spoke quickly then, striving to deliver that death to anyone else.

* * *

><p>"Lady?"<p>

Kaoru looked up in confusion and shook her head, struggling out of the grip of feathered quilts. Then the room coalesced, its high ceiling and quiet tapestries telling her clearly where she was. Sunlight shone openly through the large bay of the window in the northern wall, lighting off the small blue flowers that had been set there.

"Lady?"

"Yes" She shook the sleep out of her voice and tried again. "Yes?"

"I've brought your breakfast."

Kaoru's eyes fell upon a young girl in a scoop-necked cream-colored dress. She carried a small tray across long, thin arms and stood just inside the large, mahogany doors.

"Come in," Kaoru said, smiling.

The girl did not meet her eyes. Rather, she scurried as quickly as the tray would allow. Reaching the bedside table, she laid it down, hiding her eyes beneath a short spray of delicate brown hair.

Laid in white relief against the bare pink flesh of her right arm was a long scar.

"Thank you," Kaoru whispered.

The girl didn't respond. She pulled back and away, fleeing the room with what dignity her fear would allow her.

Kaoru watched the slave go. She wanted to call her back. If she had been anywhere else she would have; the fear at least she could have comforted. Even knowing where she was, it was hard to still that urge. But she did, turning without appetite to the breakfast that had been laid out for her.

_I have to ask Kenshin if these slaves are mine._ She shuddered a little, thinking on it: She would be asking to own slaves.

_Yes._ She raised the top of the tray. _But if I own them, I can decide their fate. I can protect them. And maybe, if they understand that, they might come to trust me._

It would certainly make this morning ritual more bearable. Restless, she rose, leaving blue-patterned covers askew, to look out the window. Morning? She sighed. Afternoon, then.

She walked over to her closet; Kenshin had shown it to her on her first night there, but she had not yet dared to open it.

What do you expect to find there, she chided herself, as her hand touched the doorknob. Bodies?

No, it held finery, dresses such as she had never imagined, let alone seen. She wanted to laugh then, and surprised herself by doing so. Only twice in her life had she ever worn a dress. How on Earth could he imagine that she would ever wear any of them? They weren't in the slightest bit practical—she couldn't fight in them—

The laughter died abruptly.

Of course she couldn't fight in them. She wasn't expected to, here. None of her fighting would be done in the drill circle or on the field; no sword blow, no physical manoeuvre, could accomplish the goal that she had set for herself.

But sunlight refused to let all of the darkness in.

_No ceremonies._ She reached out, her hand brushing against deep blue velvet and smooth, clean silk. _No blooding of the altars._

For that she was willing, even able, to wear what he had chosen for her.

At least she was willing. But as she pulled a blue velvet dress out of the closet, she wondered if she was able. The back of it was a maze of tiny, glittKaorug buttons. She looked at them closely and thanked the Bright Lord that she'd not had enough experience with jewels to be able to tell if they were all real.

But real or not, there must be at least fifty of them, and most of them were placed in such a way that she alone would not be able to close them all.

She put it back, feeling its weight. _They can't all be like this._

Much to her horror, she found that they were.

_How on Earth,_ she thought, half an hour later, _can anyone be expected to wear these? You'd need a small army of servants to—_

Or slaves.

Kaoru. She shook herself. He promised there would be no blooding of the altars. Remember that.

It helped.

* * *

><p>Later that night.<p>

Kaoru was nervous.

The chairs, even the single ones, that populated her sitting room made her feel even smaller than she was as she sat very stiffly in them.

_Why?_

_I...I don't know._

A lie.

When the knock on the door came, she leaped to answer it.

"Kaoru."

Kaoru looked up to see that the First Servant's face was inches away—as it had been just the evening before. His beauty seemed to be enhanced at night. All the words that she had wanted to say for the entirety of the day fled her suddenly trembling lips. She nodded unsurely.

"Are you troubled?" His voice felt like the velvet of the first dress she'd touched.

"No," she managed to say with difficulty.

"Do you mind if I enter?"

"N-no, of course not."

He looked at her, the barest hint of red in the depths of his golden eyes. For some reason she was frightened. Almost against his will, he felt a flicker of anticipation at the touch of it. But it was no ordinary fear that she felt; it was tangled with everything that she was. He smiled.

"Little one, I can hardly enter if you continue to stand in the doorway."

"The—" She blushed and took a quick step back. "Oh." She took another step back involuntarily.

He followed. She was afraid, yes. But not in the way that she had been at any other time. The lamplight glinted off the sudden display of his pointed, pale teeth. His smile was feral.

_You are afraid._ He stepped forward again and closed the door very firmly behind him. _Of me._ He felt the force of her fear; heard the sudden clamouring of her heart as clearly as he had heard the few words that she had spoken. _Of me._

This kind of fear felt wonderful.

He spoke no words as he took another step toward her; she spoke none as she retreated into a room that was suddenly too small and too crowded.

And this, this was normal. This paralysis, this sudden tension, was something he was accustomed to viewing in the eyes of the mortals who could actually see him—and who knew what his presence meant.

He touched her chin, his forefinger curling gently under the line of her jaw as she froze, the backs of her knees against the low table.

"Kaoru"

She had never heard such sibilant death in a voice, not even on the first day that she'd encountered him. He was shadow, he was darkness, he was the cold container of red-fire. But...

She felt his fingers bite into the line of her jaw in a sudden, painful clamp.

Her throat suddenly dry, she tried to pull back.

He showed her all the menace a gentle smile could contain. With a strength that could not be denied, he pulled her face toward his.

White-fire seared his unprepared hands.

With a harsh curse, he threw her and she staggered back, her hands trembling in air in a silent language he knew well.

"You dare?" he whispered, as red engulfed his form. "After what I have done for your sake?" His eyes flashed. He was the First of the Darkness, the most powerful of his kind. And she—she was little better than mortal; even the taint of her blood could not save her from age, from death, or from his rage.

She stood, not five feet away, her hands raised against him, her eyes living blue. It was her eyes that caught him unprepared.

They were wide, unblinking sapphires. He saw her trace her Greater Light across the air and noticed that her hands were shaking.

"Kenshin," she whispered, "why?"

He owed her no answers. He walked through her ward with contemptuous ease and reached for her shoulders, striking her raised arms away.

She froze again, as a rabbit does before the hawk strikes. And now, finally, he understood the reason of her fear. She was mortal; she was _female._

And he, although immortal, was a male with desires that he indulged at a whim.

"Are you frightened?" he asked, in a conversational tone. His hands tightened on the shoulders of her dress, and it fell back, exposing the whiteness of the skin above her breasts.

White-fire flared again, but this time he was ready for it. It crackled uselessly against a shield of red and disappeared.

She struggled, as many others had struggled, her strength muted by the paralysis of denial. He thought he had long since grown bored with this particular, bloodless sport. It was subtle, and the pain it afforded his pleasure was slow to take root in his victim.

But with her it was different. There was this need to take, to possess, which had never accompanied his previous couplings.

He felt all her fear; it went deep, into darker regions than Kaoru had faced before. He could see the rise and fall of her shortened breath as his hand pressed over her heart, leaving its mark.

Almost intoxicated by it, he forced her to the floor, casually kicking the table across the room. He looked down at her white body as it moved in the frame of gold carpet, her raven hair a spray of darkness.

It was not the first time she had been afraid—but it was the first time she had gifted him with her fear.

Inexplicably, she ceased her struggles, although the fear, if anything, had grown stronger. He lowered himself on her and pressed his mouth until his teeth touched the skin of her throat without ever tasting blood. He pulled the torn dress away, throwing it just out of the reach of her open hands.

Then he stopped a moment, raising himself on his arms to look at her. Her eyes were closed, her lips parted in silence. Tears trailed silently out of the corner of her eyes, to rest against the pillow of her hair.

The taste of his victory turned to ash.

For less of a crime than this he had bisected one of his soldiers.

_But she is mine._

Her eyes opened, met his, and closed again. She was trembling.

With effort he pulled himself away from her and stood.

"Kaoru."

She did not, could not, answer. The dress lay, as she did, where it had fallen.

He should say more. He knew it. But he found himself trembling as well. He did not want to destroy her, to destroy her light; but he felt the desire to take and twist the fear that she offered. He took a step forward, the desire to take her growing stronger.

_She is mine._

But not—not like this. Not like any mortal cattle that had been paraded before him, for his pleasure alone. For he felt certain that this pain would destroy the light that she alone could offer.

That knowledge was almost not enough.

With a snarl, he turned his back on her prone body and walked to her closed door. He gripped the handle of it, shaking.

_Mine._

Another snarl, lower and more visceral. He swung the door open and left the room, slamming it behind him.

He left his mark in the bronze handle.

* * *

><p>"With all due respect, Lord, I do not think that you can be of any aid here."<p>

Kaoru heard the physician's words clearly. Her eyes turned to face the window of her room; night had almost fallen. She gathered the folds of blankets and covers and pulled them up to her chin.

She knew who it was.

He was the only one who ever visited.

_Don't—don't let him in._ But it was a hopeless thought; the First Servant walked exactly where and when he pleased.

As if to bely this, minutes dragged by. The doctor returned to the room, lighting the three lamps that were gathered near her bed. His face was still and pale as he went about this task.

The Servant had not entered.

Kaoru relaxed, but only marginally. It was dark here, even with the lamplight.

"Is he . . ."

"Outside the door," the man replied, his hands already closing the heavy curtains.

She wanted to ask him not to leave, but bit her lip instead. If she, Kaoru of Noria, could be so afraid—why was she shaking?—she could not ask anyone else to face the Servant.

"Are you hungry?"

She shook her head; the exact motion that had also refused a morning and afternoon meal.

"Kaoru."

She looked up. The physician stood no more than two feet away.

"You must eat something." He had difficulty meeting her eyes. He didn't know what had happened, but it was easy enough to guess.

"Tomorrow," she said softly.

He sighed, looking up at the closed door. She followed his gaze and then looked away.

Of all things that she had been prepared for, this was not one. She had fought in her share of battles, taken her share of injuries. She closed her eyes. She was bruised, slightly scratched, but whole. Why—why was she shaking?

It wasn't as if she hadn't been hurt before. She had taken worse wounds in the field.

Why was this worse? Her hands crushed the sheets between tight fists.

She knew what he had intended. It had happened to others before, and she'd had to calm and heal any number of villagers who'd had worse done to them than she had.

She curled her knees tightly up to her chest.

He—stopped. She told herself. He didn't—he didn't . . .

"Kaoru."

She shook her head, a tight, sharp snap of motion. Her eyes cleared and she looked around at the points of light the lamps provided. Those lamps stood between her and the First Servant.

The doctor was no longer anywhere in sight.

He saw the shadows that marred the whiteness of her face. More clearly, he saw the broken trail of light that ringed the tight curl of her body.

Something foreign touched him then: relief. He stood barely inside the room, the open door at his back.

"Kaoru," he said again, more clearly.

He felt all her fear as it reached for him. It was stronger than before, but he expected it now. He held his place. "Have you eaten?"

She almost didn't understand his words. _Eaten?_ she thought. _No. No, I haven't_. She looked up, shaking her head when the words wouldn't come.

"I see."

She tensed, but he stayed put, a shadow with no body to cast it against the panelled wood.

"Will you eat?

She shook her head again. She had never looked so young and vulnerable.

"Kaoru," It was not easy to speak. "I told you, you have nothing to fear from me." In spite of his resolve, he found himself a few steps closer to where she sat beneath her cloth shields.

_Does she think that they stop me from taking what I want?_ He pulled himself back. Never before had it been important to still or calm fear; fear and pain were the things in mortals that had, until now, been most beautiful and compelling.

And in her he felt them more strongly than he had felt them in centuries.

He allowed himself to smile at the irony of it.

The smile dimmed.

"Kaoru "

Her eyes were flat and lifeless.

"It is—it is not easy for me to be here."

She heard the words, but had no response to offer; none but the fear. He hoped that later she might remember what he said.

"You have shown no fear of me; no fear of the death that I mean to your kind, not until last night." He turned away. "I do not understand why. But when I came to you, I had no intention of harming you; no intention of doing other than dining, as we have done these past months.

"I do not understand the nature of the fear you felt before I touched you." He had thought he knew, but was wrong. He shook himself and reached for the door frame. "But I understand the fear you have now. Understand that I do not wish to cause it. And understand, little one, that we are both drawn to fear and pain—but for different reasons.

"I will leave you in peace this night. I have"—he smiled again, bitterly—"the physician's word that my presence is likely to cause harm.

"But tomorrow on the eve, if you are strong enough, I would be honoured if I might remain."

He looked at her then, for the last time that evening.

She saw the hunger in his eyes, but beneath that there was something else. Pain?

_Are we both called to it?_ She watched him leave, pain filling her own chest.

_What am I afraid of?_

Of the pain he could cause?

_No._

Of the darkness beneath his beautiful face?

_No._

No blooding of the altar in the palace, no ceremonies, no death.

_You are afraid of the kindness she shows you. _

_Yes..._

_I am afraid of falling in love with him._

* * *

><p>Ahhhh I intended to throw Tomoe and Enishi in this chapter but they don't fit yet. And you could imagine Kaoru's reaction to seeing the killer of her mother again.<p>

I hope you enjoyed this chap. Please review.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

"Kaoru?"

Kaoru smiled almost shyly as she met the physician's surprised gaze. The door framed her almost exactly, and she stood so still she looked like one of the portraits that hung in the grand hall of the priests. No, not so like, for while she wore an emerald-green gown, with the low, square, lace-bordered neck that had been fashionable in the older years, her face was open and friendly, even though her smile was hesitant and questioning. He shook himself and stepped back, opening the door.

"I wanted to thank you," she said, as she entered the small infirmary and looked around at the plain, blank walls.

"Are you feeling well?" His own glance strayed to the row of four single beds, each covered in two plain, white sheets. Sick beds did not suit her attire.

She nodded. "I—"

"Do you want to lie down?"

"No. I just wanted to—"

"Did you sleep, then?"

She laughed. "Doctor, please, I—"

"Why don't you—"

"Doctor!"

He stopped. "Yes?"

"I wanted to tell you that I slept through the evening. It's probably why I'm awake so early." She caught his arm, her smile still quiet. "Thank you. You told him—you told the Servant not to stay. He didn't."

Kaoru thought the relief on the doctor's face was stronger than the relief she herself had felt. They stared at each other for a moment in happy silence, and if she wore the dress of nobility, and he of well-regarded slave, no one was there to notice. Then, as if only just aware of the surroundings, the doctor drew back.

"Is there anything else I can do for you?"

"I hoped that I might be able to be useful here." She looked around doubtfully at the empty beds, her blue eyes questioning. "I didn't want to just lie around my rooms today."

"Understood." The doctor shook his head. "But we don't see too many injured here." His face darkened. "Usually if someone is injured they don't get treated."

Kaoru was silent for a moment. It was strange to be in an infirmary that was so ghostlike in its emptiness.

"Kaoru."

She smiled sadly. "If you ever need help . . ."

He caught her hand and held it tightly. "I think," he said softly, "that if you're here, I—"

They both turned at a sudden sound.

The door flew open. Daylight glinted off black surcoats and drawn swords. These uniforms were crisp and clean, and across each, red glittered like a jeweled wound. Six Swords, soldiers of the palace.

The doctor rose immediately, putting Kaoru firmly behind him. "What may I—"

He never finished the sentence.

Kaoru had seen Swords on the field before; they were fast, even armoured. A weapon swung and stopped in the doctor's body. She reached for her own sword automatically, before remembering that she hadn't carried one for months. Tensing, she began to summon her Light.

The Swords circled her, pressing her back. They did not strike. She stopped wondering why when a man in archaic red robes bent slightly to enter the infirmary. A red hood of stiff silk rose from his shoulders, a misplaced crown for the head of the Church. He was tall, even without it, his shoulders were wide, and his face a study of angular grimness. High priest.

"Kaoru of Noria." He smiled.

Something about his tone was familiar. She swallowed, recognizing the ancestors of the Yamidarians. For a moment the priest's face seemed to gray into darkness and shadow.

She shook herself. This man—this one she understood.

"High priest." She smiled in return, but it was a frozen, cold expression. Her body was outlined with blue haze.

"Dressed for the occasion." His sneer took in the collared velvet and lace. "And unarmed." He motioned to the Swords. "How unwise."

Kaoru looked at him carefully. Her smile almost faltered when she caught the sudden brilliance of his power; it glowed like the dying sun.

She turned slowly to look at the Swords and sagged. Against the high priest alone she might show her measure, but there were too many others.

Swords took her by the arms. She did not resist.

"Very good," the priest said, as she was dragged past him. "I was afraid that we would have to kill you here—and I am a man who enjoys a more leisurely form of entertainment."

The halls were empty—almost suspiciously so. Nothing stopped the Swords from leading Kaoru to the south wing of the palace.

"A precaution, Kaoru. Any slave found in these halls at this time has volunteered for the ceremonies we will perform tomorrow evening."

_Ceremonies?_ Kaoru shrunk inward. Now she understood why they had come.

_But Kenshin said—_

She stopped for a moment; the guards dragged her off her feet. Turning her head—which was difficult in the position she was held in—she said, "The First will not be pleased."

"No." The high priest's smile rippled uncertainly before once again emerging whole. "But unfortunately he is not here to consult. He never walks in daylight."

"You can't possibly think he'll accept—"

"Accept what? It is not our duty to guard you, Kaoru. When you have chosen to flee the palace, what can he do? Hunt you, perhaps. But as a renowned warrior of Noria, you are clever and not without power of your own. I do not believe he will find you when he searches.

"Hurry." His voice grew sharp.

The halls unfolded rapidly before them, turning into the towering arches that lay at the palace's center. Tapestries, all black and red flesh, hung on the wall declaring whose wing the south was. Kaoru shuddered. The artist that had captured so much human pain with mere wool must have been Yamidarian.

She wasn't given the time to take a more leisurely look at them; the doors of the temple were upon her.

Like much of the decor, they were black, with metallic red detailing and ruby work. But even these were not for her eyes; they swung open quickly, revealing almost endless height and majesty. Artists had worked here, too, painting frescoes chaotically from one end of the hall to the other—black, red, and pale, pale pinks and browns. She could almost hear them screaming.

Through the doors lay the altar, some sixty feet back. It hung as if suspended by the red lines that were wrapped around it, protecting the consecrated ground from light. Like the doors it was black, and it shone as if it were oiled.

Around the altar stood nine men, in vestments similar to those the high priest wore. Similar, but lesser, an elegant red silk, with traceries of black and formal hoods that had been carefully arranged around their shoulders. All of them glowed distinctly more brightly than their own power would have allowed.

_They prepared for this. I should have been more careful._

"You're late," one man murmured, as the Swords dragged her up to the altar.

"She was not in her quarters. We persuaded one of her personal slaves to tell us where she had gone."

"Then let us hurry."

"Are you nervous, Serlin?"

"Impatient."

Geslik laughed. "It is day, fool. The First sleeps in the Dark Lord's hand. Even such screams as she will make could not draw him here."

He turned and walked over to where Kaoru stood. Very gently he caught her face in his hands. "Strip her."

Her eyes widened involuntarily and she started to pull back. Fingers dug into her cheeks and jaw.

White-fire flared, too rapidly for the Swords that held her to react. They uttered choked cries and her arms fell free. She moved quickly and struck at two coming Soldiers, her white Light burned them before they reached her.

Kaoru turned on the high priest and flung her arms.

"Yes." Geslik whispered. "You do have power. But Kaoru, so do I."

He stood in the center of her fire, regarding its brilliance with contempt. It shone, a pale reflection in the darkness of his eyes. Geslik reached through it and grabbed her neck.

Her hands flared, white torches, as she touched his and tried to force them to release her. He held her there, a shield of shimmering red around the whole of his body.

"We have had three days to gain this power, Kaoru. Do you fully understand what it means? I fear not, but I am patient; I will show you.

"Serlin, come."

Red robes and red shields outlined the body of the man who left the altar to join the high priest. Serlin closed his eyes for a moment, and the shields sharpened and crystallized until they were gauntlets around his large hands. He drove them through the whiteness of Kaoru's fire and touched the green fabric of her dress.

"She is powerful," he said, his teeth clenched.

Kaoru was certain that he at least felt the heat of her fire. But it wasn't enough to stop him. Velvet tore away in strips. It hurt; she felt the seams cut into her back and pull her forward.

"Enough," Geslik murmured. His hands still crushed her neck, bruising it without drawing blood—not yet. He lifted her off the ground, his arms not even straining with the weight.

Three days, Kaoru thought. How many people could die by slow and painful ritual in three days?

His power was all the answer she needed.

She struggled against it, regretting her earlier caution. Against the Swords she might have had a quick death and, compared to this, an easy one.

_Easy?_ Her blood forced power outward. No death by enemy hands could be so, and no life taken from one of the lines was easily given—not to these.

Geslik's eyes narrowed. His smile ceased; she was glad of that. With a curse, he threw her down. She felt the stone of the altar against the back of her head.

She muffled a cry.

Hands grabbed her soft black hair and her head hit the stone again. And again. And again.

Kaoru's struggles grew weaker, but they didn't stop entirely; the power that she had summoned was already diminishing the force of the blows.

"Enough," Geslik said.

Fingers tangled in ebony hair. "Why? You know what her power is. Let us drain it this way."

"If she can heal herself, so much the better—but I will not have her killed so easily. Not for a pleasant death do we take this risk." He stared across at the second of the thirteen council members.

After a moment, the man nodded, and Kaoru's head fell limply once more onto the cushion of obsidian.

Geslik gestured to one of the more junior of the council, and the man held out a long ebony box.

A grim little smile flickered across Kaoru's lips. She summoned her power inward, shaping it carefully. Abikaro had taught her this years ago, and she had never forgotten. Only once, once in all her years, had she put it aside.

For her bargain with the First.

_I gave my word to Kenshin. My pain in exchange for the villagers' lives_. _I gave no such word to you._

She saw the dagger as it came out of the small casket. It glimmered darkly in the light as if night itself had chosen this moment to visit the temple. Her smile, if anything, grew broader. _Kill me,_ she thought. _You will get little satisfaction from it. _Even the First of the Dark Heart had been certain of that.

Her power grew within her like a smooth, soft shield. Even the dull throbbing of her head dimmed and receded.

_Abikaro, thank you. _A silent thanks to the memory of her mentor.

She saw the light clearly for the first time in months. It grew behind her eyes, colouring the world in a soft haze of white and blue.

Geslik raised the knife and began to chant softly. The cadence of his voice was almost pleasant, although it dwindled into silence by the time that Kaoru caught the fullness of its rhythm. "Now, Kaoru, let us show you what the Church have developed over the years. I have not yet had the chance to purify the taint of Noranen blood. I look forward to seeing you ward. It is always satisfying to see the death of any hope. Will you ward for us, Kaoru?" Serlin murmured something that Kaoru couldn't catch. She strained, listening intently. Nothing.

This, this is what her mother must have faced. She thought it without any bitterness. She was tempted to ward, tempted to try her power against them to see who broke first. The red brilliance that each man contained told her clearly who would win.

On the field—on the field they could not have done this. Or could they?

She thought of her mother and lay silent and motionless.

They could stop her power from going outward. They could not take it from where it gathered within her body. Even now, they had not the power of a full Servant.

But her power was not infinite; and once it was gone ...

_No. No,_ _Kaoru_. _Concentrate, damn you._

The shadows gathered about the high priest, taking form and substance. He stood, red against black, the very epitome of the wars. The knife came down steadily and surely, its edge caressing the whiteness of exposed skin.

Where it walked, a trail of beaded blood followed, red against white.

Kaoru felt nothing. _But for how long? How long?_

She tilted her head back, eyes catching the sunlight that forced its way through thick stained glass. She felt a small tugging at her feet and looked at Geslik, catching his smile, so dark and strong, as blood poured from her body. Her mouth opened, soundless, and she clamped her lips, forcing the corners upward.

Maybe, if she could anger him, he would kill her before her protection gave out and she could feel what he did. Her smile cut through his.

She still had power to draw on. It was morning. By evening she knew they would have to be finished with her, one way or the other. By evening—but the days at this time of year were long.

"Serlin?"

"With pleasure, high priest." The knife changed hands almost as if it had a will of its own. It looked like a living, wounded thing as Serlin took it firmly.

The blade bit deeper this time, and further up Kaoru's body. She felt it trembling in the wound it made, but no more.

"Kaoru," the man said softly, "I do not believe any of member of the council have been so privileged."

Blood welled up, trickling down her side to grace the stone her body warmed.

"Never," a dark voice said. "Nor will they be so now."

"What?"

Serlin looked up as Kaoru turned her head in a like motion.

The shadows had gathered. The altar of the Dark Lord was waiting for the pain the priests could bring. The darkness had been called.

In the light of day, it answered.

Kaoru's eyes grew wide. She started to sit up, but stopped; the knife still protruded from beneath her right breast, the hand that had twisted it hanging motionless.

"Kenshin," she whispered, sliding down to the stone again, death forgotten.

He stood between the open doors of the temple, sunlight arrayed against him like an undeniable army.

Undeniable?

Kaoru could see the red that glowed around him; it was so strong that she could barely see the beauty of his face. He seemed to be on fire and not in control of it; wisps of smoke, like innocent mist, curled high above the hands that buckled black doors.

Serlin drew back, as did the rest of the council. "Lord—"

"Yessss . . ." He walked into the room. The jaws of daylight closed around him.

Kaoru rolled shakily off the altar, gathering the blooding tatters of her dress around her, but no one seemed to notice. She turned to see the council in their resplendent red garments. Shadow was there, at their feet, colder than the marble they stood on. Red lines sprang to life, stronger and brighter, forming a complicated net that surrounded even the least of their number. She watched the net grow stronger as the red light they held grew weaker. They were shielding themselves. And she saw fear on each of their faces. Not obvious, not hysterical, but there nonetheless.

She shuddered as she wrapped her arms around herself, her healing light shimmering around her. No Servant walked in daylight, yet Kenshin was here. And he walked. The fire moved with him as he continued to burn.

"More power," Geslik murmured. "The daylight takes its toll even now. "

The strands of red grew thicker and stronger as the weave itself began to pulse,

None of the priests spoke.

Nor did the First Servant. Any word might show the pain he felt as the day delicately burned its way through the first few layers of his darkling skin.

He approached their barrier and stopped.

The priests whispered among themselves.

"Lord," Geslik said, his voice quieter. "We mean you no disservice. But the Church—"

The Servant raised his arms. Claws came out to grip the sharp lines of blood-power. He smiled then. Kaoru shivered at the sight of it. If it cost him effort, he did not deign to show it.

The barrier fell away, torn to shreds by the greater power the Servant commanded.

Geslik leaped back—too late.

The solid iron of the door had not been able to stand against the Servant—nor, now, did flesh.

The last thing that Geslik saw was the colour of the Servant's eyes boring into him even as his claws of red did. He fell forward, denied even the release of a scream. He had not the throat left to utter it.

The Servant did not appear to notice. He moved on, and quickly, taking each of the priests in turn as easily as if they were waiting in line to greet him. His one regret was that he hadn't the time to give them the death they truly merited.

Kaoru could only watch.

She knew that were she whole and armed, she could not have covered the space between herself and Kenshin in the time it took him to reach the last man.

And she wasn't sure that she wouldn't have tried.

Deaths she had seen before, and in greater numbers than most. But none of them had been like this. She watched blood spray across the altars, an afterthought for the Dark Lord. Poets talked about red plumes of fountaining blood, and in the future, if she chose, she could do likewise.

She saw him turn, his power only slightly diminished. The death was gone from his eyes, but not the red. It reached out to touch her more surely than the priests had.

She took a step back.

He held out one hand, whether in supplication or demand, Kaoru could not be certain. It, too, was red.

"Kaoru," he said softly. His voice was shaking. "Are you well?"

_Well?_

Her hands fluttered nervously, concealing what they could while they trembled. She was suddenly afraid. This fear even the priests could not evoke. Confused, she moved back again.

He sensed her fear, even through the pain that held him; sensed it, and knew what she knew: that it had not been given to the priests.

Once again it came like a gift to him, and him alone. He dared not move toward her.

"Kaoru." His voice was even weaker now; he should already be gone. But he stayed just a few seconds longer, risking dissipation. "Kaoru, I have taken the liberty of calling your slaves to you. They will arrive shortly. They are frightened; I had no choice in the aspect I took to command them. But they will see you to your rooms."

He smiled then, grim and dark. "No one will trouble you there."

Then he vanished, turning away from the sun's light to the hand of the darkness itself. The smell of his immortal flesh burning lingered in the air.

* * *

><p>"You were very lucky."<p>

The doctor smiled out of a pale face. His hair, what there was of it, rested awkwardly against a pillow—one too fine and soft to have come from the infirmary. Kaoru, her hair drawn tightly back into a practical, unruly knot, touched his hand a moment, then nodded.

She turned to one of the three hovering orderlies. She smiled warmly. "Aki?"

He nodded, no smile in return. His hands had rolled the fold of his white shirt into an endless pattern of dirt, sweat, and wrinkles.

She sighed. "You did well; you did the right thing. I think, if you can keep him abed, he'll recover."

Evan nodded again, the movement still crisp and jerky. But Kaoru caught the tight lines around his mouth as they relaxed.

"What happened?" one of the other orderlies asked. A young woman, perhaps a year or two older than Kaoru herself. Evan spun and turned a dark look upon the girl, one which she chose to ignore. She was dressed in a thick gray skirt and plain white shirt, and looked every bit the fighter. Kaoru liked her.

"Swords," Kaoru replied softly. "Swords came." She said nothing else, but the girl seemed satisfied.

"Kaoru?"

Four heads turned to look at the doctor.

"The name's Marcus." He held out one shaky hand.

"Thank you," she said softly as she pushed him firmly back against the pillow.

"You've spent yourself tending to me; have you seen to yourself at all?"

"I'm fine." It was mostly true. "And anyway, I'm the doctor here, you're the patient. I suggest you worry about regaining your own health before you start asking after anyone else's." But she smiled as she said it. As a healer, she knew how difficult it could be to be a patient.

Marcus appeared to know it as well. He returned her smile wryly.

"But the Swords—"

"Dead."

"The high priest?"

"Dead as well."

Marcus smiled and Kaoru shook her head. "No, I didn't kill him. He—and the members of the council gathered with him—had prepared for many days. They were able to block any outside use of power I might call."

"You didn't kill them?" he said, as if to himself. "Then who?"

"The First Servant. Kenshin."

He looked at her with a mild frown. "How long was I unconscious for? Have I lost an entire day?" He looked out to catch the red light of sundown.

"No." Kaoru shook her head. "It was day."

"Day? Bright Lord! He came in the light of day."

She rose then, her eyes averted. "I will come tomorrow to see how you fare. But now, I think I must return to my rooms for dinner."

"Kaoru?"

She hovered in the doorway, wanting to stay, wanting to leave. "Yes?"

"Thank you."

She nodded then and made her choice. The door closed behind her back as she stepped out into the long, silent hall.

* * *

><p>When the knock came, she tensed. Her fingers dug into the upholstery of the chair she sat in, and she looked down at them ruefully.<p>

_So much for choice._

Clearing her throat, she said, "Yes?"

The door opened smoothly.

In the frame there stood a man, haloed darkly by the shadow that was his mantle. He was more pale than she remembered him.

"Might I enter?" his amber eyes were fixed on her.

"Please." She nodded rigidly and clasped her hand on her lap. Her dress this time was of light violet. "Have you—have you asked for dinner?"

"For two." The door swung shut behind him. "But it will be longer than usual."

"Oh." _Oh? Is that all you can say?_ Her jaw seemed clamped so tightly that only forced words would come out of it. _He saved your life. Can't you at least say thank you?_

Her silence answered her.

From where he stood, he could hear the song of her fear. It was fascinating. Beautiful. It made a tapestry of her breathing, her expression, and her stance. No artisan could capture the feel and texture of it; it was a living work.

He shook himself. It was easier than it had been to deny the call of it. Easy or no, he had made his decision. He would abide by it.

As he walked toward his customary chair, he could see her young face pale. With precise, even movements he took his seat.

She looked away when he met her eyes.

"Kaoru."

Ebony hair obscured part of her face as she bent her head. "Yes?"

"I apologize for your . . . trial today. I did not think that the priests would dare to touch you. My word on that was clear."

The chill of his voice was not for her, but she shivered at it.

"I was careless. It almost cost your life. Please forgive me."

_Forgive you?_ Kaoru wanted to shout. _Forgive you for what? You saved my life—you dared the daylight to save me._

And that's the problem. _I don't understand you, Kenshin. I don't understand what you want._ For a single moment she could feel his hands, with their delicate, dangerous claws, pressing into her breast. Without thinking, she lifted her hand to her heart as if to push him away.

"Kaoru?"

"I—thank you." It was awkward, but it was the best she could do.

He stared at her, and again she froze, as she had frozen once before. They shivered at the same instant.

Then he gave her a very rare smile.

"We cannot continue thus," he said softly, the points of his teeth still evident. "Tell me, Kaoru, what it is that you fear? I will not force you, or force myself upon you." He looked at her oddly. "But that evening, that was not the fear that drove you." His face darkened. "Not, at least, at the beginning."

She shook her head. "No," she said at last. "No—I didn't even think that you would—"

"And now?"

"Now?" she said stupidly.

"You still wear your fear, Kaoru. But even your fear is strange. It is not, I think, given to many. I am—honoured by it."

"Honoured?"

He nodded gravely, and Kaoru realized that he meant exactly what he had said. She felt a blush rise in her cheeks. Before she could speak, he began again.

"But this fear, why do you feel it?" He leaned forward in the chair, coming closer to her without leaving it. The red strands of his crimson hair swayed with his movement. "Is it that you do not trust me?"

"Trust you? How am I supposed to . . ." The words faded. She gulped air as if it were water and she were drowning, bowed her head again, lower than before, and brought her hands to her cheeks.

"If you do not, I understand. I will be—patient enough to earn it."

She had never been very good at lying, not even to herself. For a moment two images pulled her; his darkness as he hovered over her, and his fire as he burned for her.

"I do trust you."

He raised one eyebrow, the only visible gesture of his surprise. "Then why?"

The chair could no longer contain her; she rose, wringing her hands tightly in front of her stomach. Her feet padded against the plush, gold carpet as she paced in front of him like a caged animal.

"Why—why did you stop? That evening."

His eyebrow flew again, but her back didn't notice it. Her ears heard the smile in his voice.

"I see," he said softly. "I could say, 'because I wished to.' But I think I understand. We must both answer questions that we would rather not ask of ourselves."

He watched as she stopped at the edge of the carpet, turned, and walked back along its length.

"But indeed, I speak the truth when I say I stopped because I wished it. For the end of it would be your death to me. And I do not wish you to die." He paused, watching again in fascination as a shaky foot touched the ground. 'There is a light in you, Kaoru."

At this she turned to face him.

"But it is not the light of the Bright Lord alone. It is different; perhaps a part of the mortality that taints you. This I do not know." He frowned; he disliked ignorance. "I have tried to find a like incident in the past; there is not one to learn from."

"I don't understand."

"Ah? No, I do not think you do." As she had done, he rose, leaving his chair behind. He moved upon her silently and she backed away. With a smile, he stopped. "But it is there, Kaoru. It does not hurt me, but I cannot truly touch it. It is . . . different;, as your fear is different."

Her fear. He reached out to touch her chin; it trembled. With regret, he withdrew. He did not wish to hurt her—and yet he still felt the desire to do so. "Kaoru, the one who cannot exercise self control when necessary is the one who cannot rule. I have already given you my word."

"The word of a Servant."

"The word of the First." But he smiled again. "And perhaps your wisdom mistrusts it."

She took a deep breath. "No."

"Then what do you fear, little one?" Again he reached for the line of her jaw, his fingers playing gently against her skin.

She snapped her head away. "I don't know."

He caught her shoulders and held them. "Do you not? Come, I have answered your question; answer mine."

She couldn't. What she had said was true: She did not know fully what it was that she feared. Or why she feared it so strongly only when he was present, when he looked down at her, when he was touching her.

Or perhaps she knew but refused to acknowledge it.

She tried to pull back; his hands held her firmly, gently, in place.

"I don't know." Her voice was a whisper, a plea.

Her widened eyes, her shortened breath—these spoke a familiar language to him—familiar and strangely new.

"Kaoru." He caught her chin again, pulling her face up to meet his.

"Please . . ."

But her trembling was the only movement she made.

"Do I hurt you, little one?"

Cold, cold fingers stroked her jaw and cheeks, drawing tiny circles there. His golden eyes locked on hers and would not leave them.

"N-no."

He cupped her face between his hands, moving slowly, moving gently. Against his will he found himself savouring all the visible signs of her precious fear.

"Do you trust me?"

"Please . . ."

There, again, the whimper that controlled her word. And the word itself struck him, familiar and new as all about her was.

"What do you fear?" His face hovered just an inch above hers. His hands tightened imperceptibly as he felt the call again. He pushed it away, but not all of it would leave; he still felt desire for her fear, for her.

Once again he caught the twisted halo of her light as it struggled with some invisible enemy.

She started to pull away and he held her there.

"No, Kaoru. From this you will not run. Name your fear."

Her lips moved soundlessly.

"Name it."

But she couldn't. He was too close, too encompassing for words alone to describe.

Moving slowly and deliberately, his mouth came down, lips resting almost gently against her own—almost. Then he felt the strangest thing of a strange evening; her lips, much softer, much warmer, moved also.

In surprise, he pulled back to see the lashes of her eyes flutter open. She was shaking; at least he thought it must be her.

"This," she whispered, swaying. "Just this"

_This is what I fear..._

He knew it for truth. Fear, like tongues of flame, burned deliriously close. But it was not unalloyed—he could see that suddenly and felt angry at his obtuseness. The fear was foreign to him because it embodied something else as well: desire, one unlike his own, but suddenly no less tangible.

His lips came down again. A kiss, a long one. Wordless, it spoke around the edges of what he felt driven to. It was not an act of violence, but the violence was there, beneath the darkness that gathered around them.

She still offered him her fear, and this little of it—this little of it his nature would not allow him to reject.

"Kaoru." His voice was shadow as he swept her off the floor, pressing her just a little too tightly against him.

She said nothing, nothing at all, but after a moment her shaking arms reached up and wrapped themselves just as tightly around his neck. The hesitation and trembling never left her.

He carried her quickly through her chambers to the bed and there laid her down. His lips met hers again; his hands touched cloth, touched flesh. He moved slowly, trembling with the effort of doing so. And his hands, where they touched her, drew no blood and left no mark. She was still, very still; the ocean that hides the undercurrent.

"I will not hurt you," he murmured, feeling the breath leave her throat.

But this night, this one of many, he lied.

She had never been touched so before.

* * *

><p>Kaoru watched the window. Dawn should be near, but the young girl did not feel it.<p>

Silent tears trickled down the corners of her eyes and into the pillow.

She was weeping.

"Little one, I have hurt you." Behind her the Servant was at loss. Her tears, the quick short breaths she was taking enthralled him, yet he feared that he had hurt her. Never before had it been so important to soothe, not to damage, to caress, not to bruise. Never before had he applied the self control he had shown her during their coupling. She was mortal, young and fragile. Her whole live did not span a score of years .

And he had been her first.

But after the initial pain, she had responded to his touch.

_Ah her pain_. It had taken all his will power not to destroy her. Her pain had been acute, it reached the depth of him. And coupled with her fear, the combination inflamed his basic nature. But more than her death, he wanted her, more than her pain, he wanted her light.

And now she was weeping.

His hand closed on her bare arm and he gently -she was trembling- he gently turned her to face him.

"Kaoru..."

"The light..." she said in a chocked voice, her blue eyes shining, "what will happen to the light?"

"I can see it, little one." Yes it was there, faint but never ceasing, yet he understood that what she meant was not this light, the light he longed to grasp, but Noria, her people, the Bright Lord. It was as if giving her body to him simplified giving up Noria.

But that life was over. Her old life had been over since he had taken her alive from that village.

The First pulled her into his arms, willing himself to handle her bruised body gently. Her lips when he touched them with his were trembling and he tasted her tears.

All that matter was her light.

It washed over him as he took her body again, as he kissed her wet cheeks and touched her young body.

He would possess it, just as he would possess all of her.

She was his.

_She is mine._

* * *

><p>Yes they finally did it. I wonder if I should have been more graphic in my description hmm...<p>

And I also wonder if you all know what that light, which Kenshin is so obsessed to possess, represents? It will become clearer later.

Thank you so much for your reviews, I never dreamed that I would get so many so early.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

A knock on the door sounded in Kaoru's room. After the single tap the door was opened hastily and the physician entered.

"Kaoru," the consternation in his voice was unmistakable, although he tried to hide it.

Kaoru gathered the sheet to her breasts and sat on the bed.

"Marcus?"

Light filtered through the blinds and in that meagre light Kaoru saw him registering her nudity before his eyes moved to scan her face.

"I was ordered by the First to see you...last night...he spent it with you," Kaoru did not know if it was a question, but she treated as such.

"Yes," she averted her gaze.

Silence.

"Are you hurt? No, what a silly question you would know what to do, are you...did he force you?"

"Marcus, I think you need to sit down, you look sick. Perhaps I should be the one to look after you." A small smile appeared on her lips and only then did the physician moved to an armchair and relieved his shaking legs.

"I thought he forced you, I thought I would come to see you broken...and Noria's hope lost forever."

Kaoru lowered her head, her smile gone. "Noria's hope...look at me, I gave myself to Noria's biggest enemy, can you still call me the hope of Light? After all this, will there be any part of me unclaimed by him?"

"Then why did you do it?"

The curtain of her raven hair obstructed his view of her eyes but when she raised her head they were blank.

"I don't know."

She was lying.

* * *

><p>Kaoru could not stay still. Never before had her waiting room seemed so small and cramped. She paced the length of the room and when the knock on the door sounded, she swore that her heart slammed against her ribcage.<p>

She stood for a moment in a stupefied stillness.

"Kaoru? May I come in?"

"Yes..." her voice was no more than a whisper although he seemed to have heard it perfectly because a moment later the door was opened and the First stepped in.

He paused by the door, his sharp amber eyes watching her. A knowing smirk appeared on his handsome face when she blushed crimson at his look.

"Co...come in," Kaoru stuttered and felt foolish because he was already inside.

"Little one," he walked towards her, stopping a couple of paces away, "I trust you are well?" The playful smirk was still tugging at his lips but his eyes were serious, which made Kaoru remember her reaction after their coupling the night before.

"I am well," Kaoru said and as if to prove it, she took a single step towards him and hesitated.

Kenshin closed the remaining distance and Kaoru closed her eyes as he bent his head to hers. His lips were cold, so was his body, as Kaoru knew very well. His movements were soft initially but when she shyly rested her palms on his chest, she felt the nature of his kiss change. It became deeper, more desperate and his arms circled her body tightly.

"Don't be afraid, little one," he murmured against her lips when a moan, involuntarily, sounded in her throat, although Kaoru herself did not know if it was from fear or something else.

His hold eased a bit and he withdrew slightly to have a better of view of her. "Dinner first," he said almost to himself before he led her to the table.

Dinner was an awkward event, where Kaoru tried to look anywhere but into his eyes. And whenever their eyes interlocked, the way he was watching her, with his fingers interlaced before his mouth, and what she saw in his eyes, made the blood rise to her face. However, as their meal drew to an end, Kaoru made an effort to control herself and forget about last night for few minutes.

She had an important matter to discuss with him.

"Kenshin," she said, her eyes were lowered but she willed herself to meet his gaze and hold it.

His eyebrows rose a fraction. "Yes, little one?"

Kaoru's chest heaved as she took a deep breath. "I have something to ask."

She watched as all the signs of amusement disappear from his countenance, he sat back on his chair, his amber eyes never leaving hers. "You know I would grant you anything that pleases you, little one, within reason, and excepting one thing."

Kaoru knew exactly what that one thing was.

_I will never release you. You will never leave. _

Those words he had uttered on her first week in Thalamia, before she stabbed herself.

Kaoru shook her head to clear that memory away.

"Yes, I understand. What I want is, I believe, within your power to grant."

His eyes flashed. "Everything is within my power to grant."

"Will you halt all the blood ceremonies in Thalamia if I ask?"

No reply came immediately. "I see. You are challenging me. This, I believe, is not your request. You would not ask for something so foolish."

"No," _not yet, _"no, what I am asking your permission for is to establish a clinic here, to heal injured and sick servants and anyone requiring help."

There was the briefest of pause as Kenshin considered. "Injured slaves are of no use in the palace."

Kaoru knew exactly what happen to the sick slaves. They were given to the church to be used on the altars.

"I can change that," replied Kaoru as she rose to her feet, her lilac dress smooth over the curves of her young body. Her feet carried her to him and she stopped by his chair. "Please, if I am to stay here I need to do this," _I need to retain something of the Light, a small flicker of light in the darkness would be enough for now._ "It would mean a lot to me."

The First Servant of the Dark was looking up at her with unreadable glint in his golden eyes. Then with one graceful movement he pushed his chair and was on his feet, few inches away from her.

His cold fingers began to touch the line of her jaw. "This I can grant."

Kaoru's sapphire eyes widened in surprise, shocked to have his consent so fast. A trembling hand rose to his and she pressed her lips to the palm of his cold hand as she closed her eyes.

"Thank you," she whispered, and for some reasons she felt the wetness trail down her cheeks. "Thank you."

But Kenshin was not hearing. He had seen the light leap to existence when he had uttered his consent –her request was harmless, and if it made her happy, he was willing to allow it. And his decision he did not regret now because her light flared as it had never before. So vivid, so captivating. Without a warning he encircled her with his arms and pressed her to his body before his lips met hers. Her light engulfed him and it did not hurt him. The need to possess it, to possess everything about her made him sweep her off her feet and into his arms. Fear mingled with her gratitude as he carried her to her bedroom and laid her on the bed. His movements were fast and desperate and this time he relished the fear that oozed from her and made no effort to ease it.

Tonight he would take, as a payment, all he wanted from her.

* * *

><p>Kaoru curled under the silky covers of her bed. The room was dark, it was past midnight.<p>

_He would be here any moment. _

Fear flickered within her as it always did before he came. But her fear was soon forgotten because she sensed something.

Her body tensed.

Someone was in the room.

Slowly she moved. It must be Kenshin. But she found it strange. He always knocked and asked for permission before he entered.

Rising to a sitting position, her loose raven hair cascading behind her, Kaoru saw a shadow, darker than the shadows of the room, standing at the foot of her bed.

"Kenshin?" even as she asked this she knew it was not him. This shadow was taller and broader.

A movement was all the warning Kaoru received before a red blast hurtled toward the bed. Kaoru had the chance to escape the full power of the hit but part of it slammed against her shoulder as she ruled off the bed. A gasp of pain escaped her mouth but she was a warrior of Noria, trained to swift action, so her fighting instincts kicked in and she jumped to her feet beside the bed and began to trace the Great Ward in the air before her, deflecting the second blow. Blood ran down her left arm but she did her best to forget the pain.  
>"Good, you are good." The shadow spoke. The voice, nauseating with its familiarity, made her heart lurch a beat as her confused mind began to associate it with a painful memory of years ago. And as the Light of her Great Ward illuminated the room the voice gave shape to a beautiful face directly from her nightmares. Pale hair, black eyes, strong hands.<p>

Hands which had tormented her mother.

Kaoru's first impulse was to hide under the bed, the chair, in the darkest shadow. Not to escape the silver haired Servant but to escape the memory of a night filled with screams, a night when she had been a helpless child, hiding in a wagon, paralysed with fear.

_Mother..._

Only now she was not a helpless child.

With a cry of rage Kaoru flung out her arms, her injury forgotten, and great White Light shot forward towards the Second of her enemies, the man who had killed her mother and almost her.

The strength of her attack forced the Second to step back as he warded. His red shield crackled against her onslaught and for a moment even he, the second strongest of his kind, was surprised by her strength. But then his shield strengthened and another shadow materialized beside him.

Kaoru screamed.

In her pure haze of rage and shock, all Kaoru's senses had been focused on the silver haired servant. Therefore, when his red shield suddenly grew brighter she was not aware of the newcomer until it was too late.

Red flame shot towards her and she had time for the briefest of shields before it hit her.

It was then that Kenshin made his entry. The doors burst open with a crash and the scene in Kaoru's room made him release a mighty roar which stopped the two other Nightwalkers. Kaoru was unconscious on the floor. Kenshin stepped before her, red flame gathering in his hands.

"A pity," his voice was icy, and for this all the more frightening. The rage he felt shone in his amber eyes. "Two of the strongest of my allies should die tonight."

Enishi's black eyes flickered to the unconscious girl lying on the floor behind his superior.

"You dare? You dare to protect her kind?"  
>"And you dare to come to my palace and attack someone under my protection. I can wipe you from existence this very instance." Red light began to circle Kenshin's beautiful hands.<p>

"You, the strongest and the closest to the Dark Lord," Enishi persisted, "is taking a creature like her under your protection? Her Light is strong for a mortal, I had sensed it, as you had, many years ago. And I had come close to destroying it. Tonight I came to finish my work."

The crimson Light flared around Kenshin. "I see. Then, Second, you will die, for you see, she is mine." The Light intensified and Enishi took his stance.  
>The black haired woman moved before Enishi.<p>

"My Lord," her voice was musical.

"Move," the First hissed.

"My Lord, we did not know she was under your protection," she spoke calmly, her black eyes never leaving the bright ones of her Lord. "Years ago, we ventured into Noria to kill a renowned healer, and we succeeded. This child had been with her and she…"

"Tomoe..." Enishi began but she cut him in.

"And she injured Enishi. Tonight we were passing the palace to pay our respect to you when we felt her presence. We had no idea that she is yours."

The red Light around Kenshin was still there but the fire was gone.

"Then it shall be known to the whole world. Leave." It was all he said before he turned and knelt before his little one.

"Forgive us, we don't presume to stay now, we will leave this instance." It was the female again. Enishi had not spoken since but his black eyes were watching the strongest of their kind as he handled the child of Light. What he saw shocked him but then Tomoe touched him and they both disappeared, lucky to have escaped at all.

Kenshin did not see them leave, nor did he care to. He was kneeling before Kaoru, who was bleeding. His anger was visible yet he had put his Empire before her. Those two should have died for having injured her so but they were the most active of the Servants, brave enough to venture inside Noria and wreck the most damage they could.

"Little one…" he whispered before he scooped her into his arms and outside the room.

* * *

><p>Outside, on one of the high towers, Enishi and Tomoe stood side by side.<p>

"It was very interesting." Enishi remarked.

"Indeed." The woman agreed, her shinning black hair whisking around her.

" And it would be very interesting to see where this lead. When was it the last time you saw the First among us protect something?"

"Never."

"Precisely."

Silence lasted for a moment as they both surveyed the empire that stretched below.

"Do you see the opportunity?" it was the woman who spoke.

"For?" but the Second knew exactly what she was talking about.

"You are the Second, only one person stands between you and between being the most powerful among us." She turned to look at him. "You could rule all this," and her hand motioned to the dark city below them.

"It might prove difficult," Enishi said, "the girl, he cares for yes, but he had spared me despite what I have had done. Whatever she is to him, the Empire is more important."

"For now." Tomoe's voice was emotionless. "It is all unprecedented, we shall bid our time and watch. Perhaps he might grow tired of her and kill her himself, or his attachment might develop and it would become his weakness. Either way, this girl should not be allowed to live."

* * *

><p>When Kaoru opened her eyes she found that the room was unfamiliar. As the haze of sleepiness ebbed away, a pain flared on her left shoulder.<p>

"Little one…"

Kaoru turned her head to the left and saw Kenshin standing at that end, his amber eyes fixed on her.

"Kenshin…"

"The physician did what he could, but his work does not satisfy me," he moved closer, "use your Light."

Kaoru heard him but her mind was on something else. "That man, the servant…"

"They are gone, they shall never hurt you again."

"I see."

For several moments her eyes remained locked with his, and Kenshin found that he did not like the look in her blue eyes. He sat by the bed and touched her face.

"Little one, what troubles you? Is it the pain?"

Kaoru shook her head. "That Nightwalker had killed someone very important to me."

The hand that was caressing her cheek stopped, then "I see." But a moment later he cupped her cheek and made her look at him. "But little one, your life in Noria is over, your life is with me now."

And those words made her want to cry.

_Your life in Noria is over._

_Okita, is it true? Is my past better buried and forgotten? Will I ever see you again? Or the little children of my village? _

"Kaoru?" she felt his arm wound itself beneath her shoulders and only when he pulled her to his body did she realised that tears were running down her pale cheeks. She pressed her face against his chest and clung to him.

_Your life is with me now. _

_Mother, Okita, Abikaro…forgive me._

* * *

><p>He watched her as she slept.<p>

It was early; the night had just begun. But he knew she would be tired. These past two months she had worked hard to start her clinic. It gave her a pleasure he did not understand to tend to the injuries of her slaves. But it made her happy, and he was willing to allow it.

"Little one," he whispered. She stirred; in the darkness of the curtained room he could see the hint of smile turn the corners of her mouth.

He smiled as well.

_Why do you rarely use my name?_

He remembered clearly the serious look on her face.

Kaoru of Noria.

"No," he said, mirroring the words of two months ago, although no one could hear them. "You are of Noria no longer."

_He saw her face darken for a moment, but what he had said was the truth. She was his. _

"You are my little one. You belong here."

_Kenshin. She had looked up, the darkness that he hated in her alone already fading. How would you like it if I always called you "Your Majesty" or "Your Highness"?_

"_Those are not among my titles. They are human conceits."_

And he remembered her little snort.

_All right. If I always called you "Lord" or "First of the Servants. "_

"_First, little one, of the Sundered."_

_You know what I mean. 'Little one' is not a name._

"_But you are mine."_

She had thrown up her hands and shaken her head.

_You know something? I never could have imagined that you would remind me of Okita._

_And then the silence had come over her again. But he knew her well; knew that this particular silence would hang like a cloud for the night if he did nothing. He did not ask her who Okita was; he did not wish to know. Her life, or all of it that concerned him, began when he took her, living, from the village that she had tried so futilely to protect._

He walked over to the bed and touched her sleeping face, tracing the line of the smile that still lingered there.

"I will call you whatever you wish, Kaoru, but you will always be mine."

"_Little one..." he had said._

_Kenshin—. . . It's a diminutive._

"_Is it?"_

_Well—it would be the same as if I called you, I don't know, darkling._

"_Darkling?"_

"Darkling . . ."

Mortals were so odd.

"Shhh, Kaoru. Sleep a while yet; it is two hours or more before we leave."

She nodded and reached out to touch him. Then her eyes fluttered open, blue even in this light.

"Kenshin?"

"Kaoru." He sat by her on the bed and pulled her into his arms. He tilted his head up slightly as her light wrapped itself gently around him.

"Is it already time?" She murmured, stretching her arms out awkwardly.

"Not yet."

"Oh."

"Did you accomplish your tasks during the day?"

She nodded sleepily. "Marcus will tend to the servants here while I'm gone."

Always servants—she never called them slaves.

Happily she added, "He thinks Evan will probably be qualified as a doctor soon."

He listened politely; Evan did not concern him.

Knowing this, she changed the subject. "Where are we going first?"

"Did you not read the itinerary I gave you?"

"I didn't understand it all. I haven't managed to master reading your impossible language just yet."

"Ah. We go to Malay, to see the duke."

* * *

><p>The duke of Malay had been seen. The duke of Daimyo had been seen. The duke of Nara had been seen.<p>

She shuddered quietly, pressing her head against the cold metal frame of the carriage window, striving to control the anger and the grief that those visits had caused her as she continued through her mental list.

The baron of Fellhearth had been seen. She remembered him clearly because of the particularly ghoulish way he had delighted in his naming of his granted lands. He was not a Yamidarian—one of perhaps three who were not—and he didn't know, couldn't know, who she truly was.

Her smile tightened momentarily. He did learn.

Kenshin. _Why did you bring me here? Why do we have to keep on with this hideous tour?_

"It is only for a little while longer, Kaoru," he had said. "Only a few more weeks, and we shall return to Darthia." The same words, always the same.

Darthia, the capital of Thalamia. Never before had the name seemed quite so welcome, quite so bright.

_But why do I need to—_

This, too, memory answered. _"You do not. But I, little one, wish these men to meet you. I wish them to know who you are. Bear with my decision."_

And she had.

It helped to know that while she visited there were no ceremonies, that while she walked the various grounds, she could tend to those slaves that might need her help. But it also reminded her of all that she could not do, all that would continue happening to the helpless when she left.

A third month passed.

* * *

><p>She had been almost afraid to go. She remembered it clearly as she stepped out of the carriage for perhaps the twentieth time, gathering the ostentatious skirts of yet another dress and holding them high above her laced "travelling" boots.<p>

Kenshin aided her as she stepped down, and she gripped his hand firmly. Another noble—Baron Tremayne—was already bowed to the ground before the shadow of the Lord of the Empire.

Swirling around the velvet of his finery was a thin, red line—another Yamidarian.

"Lord."

"Baron Tremayne. You may rise."

The man complied. He was not used to such displays of obedience, and they suited him poorly; neither his dress, all fine, dark blue velvet with frills and lace, nor his girth allowed for grace. He turned to the guards arrayed at his back and nodded briefly.

"You grace my humble lands with your presence."

"Indeed. "

Watching, she caught the hint of cruel smile play around Kenshin's lips.

"Will you require rooms, Lord?"

"Yes. For myself, and for Lady Kaoru."

Lady Kaoru grimaced and stepped forward. She could not bring herself to bow, but managed a polite nod.

"Lady Kaoru." Baron Tremayne stepped forward, reached for her hand, and took a sudden step back as his blood-sight told him who he was dealing with. It didn't surprise her; she'd seen it played over and over again at each stop they had made. She wished that Kenshin had made clear what his visit would entail—and he had been quite adamant in his refusal to do so.

"They will learn at my leisure, Lady. And at yours."

"Will you stop calling me 'Lady'? I don't want people to associate me with the nobility, not in these lands."

"Do you not? I am sorry, little one. But nobility you will be, and of greater station than any of these can possibly hope to attain. They will respect you." His tone allowed for no argument.

* * *

><p>"Baron Tremayne," she said softly. She couldn't help but smile as he struggled to control his reaction. Maybe a little of Kenshin's amusement had touched her as well. It was a light thought, but it drove the smile from her face.<p>

The baron turned to stare at Kenshin, striving for respect amid his confusion.

This, too, she was familiar with.

She was glad that it was almost over. She longed for home.

Home? She looked down at her feet. Lady Kaoru, Kaoru of Darthia. Over the many weeks, these titles had become familiar.

She reached for Kenshin's hand.

He raised an eyebrow, but lent her his strength.

"May I show you to your rooms, Lord?"

"You may. Come, Lady."

* * *

><p>Their quarters were not as grand as those that they shared in the palace, but they were luxuriously equipped; each piece of finely crafted furniture was dark and gleamed in the dim light. A slave might fetch a lesser price on the blocks. At least the baron had been given enough warning to manage this—this, and more.<p>

In the corner of the room, hands behind her back, a young girl lay curled against the floor.

"I see that the rooms are already occupied." Again the First of the Sundered gave a chilling smile.

Mistaking him, the Baron smiled in return. "Yes, Lord. You will find that she is quite suitable for your needs. I will send a detail to remove her after you are finished, should you require it."

Lady Kaoru did not wait to hear Kenshin's reply. She ran across the room and knelt beside the child. Her pale hands touched pale hair very gently.

The girl looked up. Her face was tearstained and very white.

Nothing cut Kaoru more than this: the sudden widening of eyes and the resurgence of pure terror.

"Child, child," she said, pulling the girl awkwardly into her lap. She sent out a finger of her power, placing it gently against the fear that she felt so strongly.

The child whimpered and suddenly pushed herself into Kaoru's arms.

"Shhh. It's all right, it's all right. I'm here now. I'll protect you." Small shoulders strained against the chains that were now visible. A hint of blood around the wrists showed the strength of the young girl's panic. "I'll protect you. Shhhh."

Bitterly she noted that aside from the chafing, the girl was uninjured. No one gave used goods to the Lord of the realm. Her anger caused her to tremble, even as the child did. She looked up and met the baron's eyes, her own blue and flashing with a power he knew.

"Kaoru?" Kenshin said softly, ignoring the Baron's sudden stare.

"Please."

He nodded quietly and walked over to where the two sat huddled.

The child tensed, and Kaoru stroked her hair with the blue of her power. "It's all right. He's a friend. He'll help me take these chains away."

The child quieted. Kaoru knew it was only because she hadn't the blood-sight that would see beyond the beauty of Kenshin's face and identify him clearly. She saw only another man, another noble, albeit a red haired one in black jacket, black shirt, and black pants. At least they were not the robes of the priesthood.

Kenshin touched the cool steel manacles and gestured with mild contempt. They snapped crisply and fell away. Kaoru pulled the child fully into her grasp and turned her away; she did not want her to see that the metal smouldered.

"Lord?"

Very slowly, Kenshin turned his head, the red strands of his crimson hair swaying. "Yes?"

"I don't understand. Have I displeased you?"

"Displeased me?" He shrugged elegantly. "That is not your concern. You have displeased the Lady, however." He smiled. "And the Lady chooses to grant her mercy here. Do you question this?"

"M-mercy?"

"Ah, but that is not mine to grant. Lady?"

"Not now," she replied tersely. She pulled the child gently to her feet. "In fact, I think it best if you both continue your discussion elsewhere for a time." Turning her back on them, she carried the girl to the large, regal bed.

"What is your name, child? " she asked softly.

The girl was young, but not so young that she would answer that question when asked by a noble.

The baron, however, was unwise enough to answer for her.

"She's a slave, she has no name" he said, half-incredulous.

"Oh? " Kaoru's voice was cool. "I wasn't aware that I was asking the question of you."

His face darkened. He started to step forward and Kenshin caught him by the arm. Kaoru heard the baron's gasp of pain. She couldn't help it; she smiled almost viciously, an expression that vanished completely as she turned to speak with the child.

"My name is Lady Kaoru, but most people just call me Kaoru, unless they happen to be nobility." She grimaced with distaste at the word.

"I'm a slave," the girl said cautiously. Kaoru smiled, encouraged. These were the first words the girl had spoken. She applied a little more of her power, but not too much; she would still have her tour of the house to make, and there were many, she was sure, that would require at least as much attention.

"I know," she said. "But that isn't your fault." The fear vanished under the weight of her power. "Do you want to go home?"

The child nodded.

"Well, then," Lady Kaoru said, taking the child's hand. "If you think you can walk, I'll take you. What is your mother called by the other slaves?"

The child stood on her toes and whispered something. Kaoru nodded. She braced herself for the fear that would follow when she met the girl's parents; fear mingled with hate of the station that Kenshin had granted her.

Little fingers wrapped themselves suddenly around hers. It helped. She smiled down.

Without another word to the two who watched, she left the room.

* * *

><p>Kenshin helped her into the carriage. He watched as she waved her silent good-byes to the windows of the large mansion; watched in surprise and acceptance as those windows, ringed by slaves, acknowledged her passing. Hope he knew, and hope he saw in the faces that watched.<p>

This was why Noria had always been a danger to him. But that danger was secondary.

He looked down at Kaoru's weary face and wrapped her gently in the anonymity of his shadow. _Do you not see,_ he thought, as his hand stroked her hair, _the effect that you have had?_ He did not think so—else why would she be so weary, so tired?

"He was the last, little one. From here we return home."

She sighed, nodded, and closed her eyes, pressing herself closer to him. Her breathing alone told him that she did not sleep.

"All things are in preparation in Darthia; they will be waiting for us."

"Waiting?"

"Yes."

She was silent a moment, as she always was when she was trying to understand something. "Kenshin?"

"Yes?"

"Why did we come here? Why did we tour Thalamia?"

He smiled. "Must you always question all that I choose, little one? Can you not just accept that it was necessary?" But he knew the answer to his question; he asked it only out of habit.

"Very well," he said, when her silence grew too long. "What had happened two months ago shall never be repeated. I wished all of them to know you, Lady. I wished them to understand your position. I wished to force them to accept what will soon be a known fact: You are my consort. You are my chosen Empress. Under my command, you will rule by my side."

Again her silence answered him; her silence and her sudden stiffness.

"You—you told them that?"

"Not, perhaps, in so many words. Why?"

"You—you told them that I was—that I'm—" She pulled away from him, not an easy manoeuvre in the confined space of the carriage.

Once again she had managed to surprise him. He looked at her pale, shocked face, at her wide, unblinking eyes. They spoke of a tremulous horror that he could not understand. Had he not just granted her more power than any of her kind had ever known? Had he not indicated how important she had become to him? Had he not acknowledged to her that she was no slave, to come and go entirely at his whim?

This rank, this title—it was a gift that the nobility would kill for. Why then did she not show the appreciation that was his right?

He was angry and he fought to stifle it. Here, alone in the darkness with her, he could take no chances. Control came with difficulty.

"Did you even think of asking me?"

His teeth glimmered in the shadow; it was not a smile.

"Asking you, Kaoru?"

"Asking me."

He felt her own anger, so much less dangerous, in every syllable. There was a snap as one of the gilt-edged windows broke away beneath his fingers.

"I have, " he said with difficulty, "bestowed upon you a rank that no half blood would dare to think of taking. I have honoured you above even my own brethren. You dare to ask me if—" Another snap. He bit back the remainder of the words.

She was trembling, but there was no hint of the beauty of fear about it.

"What if I don't want to rule this—this empire? What if I don't want to be associated with the nobility and the man—the Servant—who created it?" Her own hands gripped the side window out of which she looked. Landscape, obscured by nightfall, passed by her narrowed eyes.

He touched her shoulder. Very softly, he said, "Is it not too late to ask that?"

Her sudden tears dissolved his anger completely.

"Little one, Kaoru, why?" He touched her chin, turning her face toward him. "Am I cruel to you? Do I hurt you?"

"It isn't me that I worry about." Her voice was bitter and very distant. "It's never me that I have to worry about." Her head sagged forward without resistance. "Why do you want to do this to me?"

"Because I desire it. If I am to honour you, all of my subjects will."

"Honour me?" She laughed then, almost hysterically, and she would not speak again.

* * *

><p>"Oh, Marcus, I'm so glad to be back!"<p>

The doctor smiled. He looked both weary and happy as he nodded to the beds in the infirmary. Three were occupied.

"I'm not sure what you said, Kaoru, but we've been open for business these last three months—and no one's said a word against it. "

Her smile wavered. "It isn't what I said," she told him sadly, "but who I said it to."

"I thought it might be." He put an arm around her shoulder and steered her firmly to one of two chairs. "Was it hard?"

She nodded. "I—I think I've just been sheltered in Darthia. I—everywhere we went there was just so much ugliness. And I knew while I stayed I could change things, but does it help them when I've gone? What does a day here or there really mean when they have to look forward to years of slavery?"

He didn't press her for details.

"But the worst—the worst of it is here. Kenshin wants me to be Empress. " She laughed. Marcus did not.

"Empress?" he said softly.

"Empress." The word was flat. "Of the empire he's built. And I can't do it, Marcus. I can't." She stood suddenly and walked over to the window; it was glass. She pressed her cheek against it. "I've given up everything I can. I don't know if there'll be anything of me left if I do as he wants."

"What would he ask you to change?"

"What else would he have to? I wasn't raised and trained in Noria to rule at the side of a Nightwalker!"

"Not even one you love?"

"L-love?"

His eyes met her large ones.

"Love..." she repeated. Everything about her betrayed her horror. But then she smiled, quietly and sadly, all anger suddenly quenched. "Can I love him?"

"If you have no answer for that, there is not a mortal alive that does."

"And is love meant to be such a selfish thing, then? That I care about what he grants to me, when I know it is only to me that he grants it?"

Marcus was very thoughtful. He was old; he had the experience that she lacked in the seventeen years of her life.

"Love, Kaoru, is not easily defined. But only the love of the Bright Lord Himself is not motivated by mortal things. It is, in some ways, selfish. And in some, selfless. Were your lover human, I would counsel you as you counsel yourself: to seek another. Often, what one will do to others, they will one day do to you. But that isn't, I think, the case here." He stepped closer to her. "Sometimes I think you are more afraid of the kindness he offers than of the death he could give."

She nodded, the same smile pulling her lips down. "I am."

"Then this is the hope that must guide you: that the Servant can give these things. Perhaps for now, they are only given to you—but maybe, in time . . ."

"Do you really believe that? "

"It isn't important if I do, Kaoru. Do you?"

"I try to." She looked down at her hands. They were shaking. "But it's hard. I keep thinking—I know what he does. I know it and, if I accept it, I must be a party to it somehow. I can almost see the blood on these hands."

He closed his eyes. She was so young, so young to shoulder such burden. "I know," he said gently. "But if that's the case, then ask yourself what you really want. "

"I have. I still don't know. Three months ago, I might have said 'to go home.' Two months ago, even. Now ... I just don't know."

"Kaoru, do you love him?"

"Do I?" She looked at the walls as if she could drag answers from them.

* * *

><p>Dinner was a ritual. Food was laid out on a short, low table, each tray appealing in its presentation. Two silver plates decorated either end of the dark wood; cutlery, in the empire's odd style, lay on the left side. On the right, two goblets, each worth more than a small farm's yearly harvest.<p>

A ritual. She greeted him at the door, taking care to see that the large skirt of silk and the crinoline beneath it weren't crushed against the wall.

He asked, "Would it trouble you if I remained?"

She shook her head, out of habit, really. Was that all that ritual held? He took her arm as he led her to the table, even though they both knew she was capable of finding it on her own.

She stopped once, to adjust the lamplight, and then continued on to take the chair that he pulled out.

Ritual; she had taught him this, and he had accepted it. But as she looked across the full table to meet his golden eyes, she knew that more than habit lay beneath it.

_It was the first thing I taught you._

He filled her goblet with a vintage he had chosen; a good one, although initially this had not always been the case. Not that it had made, or did make, much difference to his lady; she herself had known precious little about wine. She watched as the liquid, cool and clear, spilled gently into one goblet.

Soon they would drink it; soon they would eat. She would talk of her day, he of very little.

Then, afterward, they would retire, perhaps into the sitting room. He would speak more there, and she less. He would touch her, taking her face very gently into his winter hands. He would kiss her, less gently, and she would know a moment of fear; the same fear that was always present for the beginning of each night.

He would dim the lights, but not completely, and let the shadows touch them both.

Rituals.

_Do I love you?_

This was not a question she could ask him. He was First of the Dark Lord; what little he knew of love was cold and cruel.

Cold and cruel . . . She put her fork down, swallowing slowly, aware of him, as she was always aware.

"Kaoru? "

She shook her head, picked up the fork again, and watched it shake, the light gleaming off the silver.

_What do I want?_

Not to be Empress. Not to rule.

_No?_

She had already done much in his name, and with his permission: the clinic, the dismissal of the Church from the palace proper. What more might she hope for, if she had the courage to remain?

But she knew she must be honest with herself. She didn't know if courage alone kept her in this place.

_Do I love you?_

No answer came, and she took refuge in the dinner proper.

"Kaoru."

"Hmmm?"

"Are you well?"

She looked down at what remained of her dinner: most of what had been put upon her plate.

"I'm fine. "

"You have hardly eaten anything. Are you sure?"

She shook her head.

He rose, leaving rituals behind. Very quietly he came to stand beside her chair, one hand resting upon her shoulder.

"Is the thought of being consort to the Lord of Empire so terrible? "

She thought, for a moment, that she heard the smallest of catches in his voice. "I—I already am, aren't I?"

He smiled. "Yes. And I wish the rest of my subjects to know it."

She didn't ask him why. She said nothing for a long while. And then for no real reason, as she often did, she made her decision. She caught his hand, took a deep breath, and laid her cheek gently against it.

"I love you, Kenshin."

Her words were a sigh.

She didn't see his eyes widen, couldn't see the way the touch of her light leaped up like a sudden flare to dazzle his peculiar vision. Nothing he had seen yet had prepared him for this.

_Love?_ He watched the steadiness of her inner light, wondering where the twisting current and eddies of it had gone.

_Love?_ He touched her face very gently, amazed that he could do so. And he understood for the first time all that she offered, and all that he wanted. He understood what he had seen the first time they had met; knew that it had not been for him that the light had shone.

He knew that it shone for him now.

In wonder he met her blue, blue eyes.

Could such a one as this truly co-rule all that he had built? In all history, no one, human or half blood, had dared to offer a Servant of the Dark Lord this gift. All that he had been certain of before left him with nothing save the desire to hold this light aloft for any to see, could they choose it.

"Kaoru."

She nodded quietly.

"I wish them to know that I have chosen you. I wish them to know that you have chosen me." He drew her gently to her feet. "But if—if you choose against it, Lady, I shall abide by your decision." He could offer her nothing less.

She wrapped her arms around him, hiding her face in his chest. He heard her muffled voice as clearly as he felt it.

"They will know I've chosen. I'm afraid that they'll think I—I love this world you've made." She took a deep breath and drew back so he could once again see the starkness of her expression. "But no love should exist with shame. If I love you, I will do it without being ashamed of it." Her eyes were shining, a sad, bare brilliance.

"How, then, little one, do your people express this love?"

Her eyes widened. "My people?"

"The Noranen." He rarely asked anything about her former life. "The Yamidarians have little that could capture it; the Servants of the Dark Lord, none."

She bit her lip, and he wondered if in asking the question he had brought a pain he did not seek to inflict.

"There are—there are the rites of bonding, rituals, simple ones. I mean, when two people choose each other. There are other ways that we love; we love our parents, we love our brothers or our sisters, we love the Lady. " She took a deep breath, steadying herself. "But if there are two who wish to make their bond known, they call the rites, in front of people they care about. I—it's not easy to explain. "

She looked at the dinner, now cold, laid out before her.

"But I could teach you."

"Teach me, then. I would learn it. "

* * *

><p>Yes Kenshin and Kaoru will marry and I think things will get bad soon. Yes I am sorry, but I promise you, no death! No Torture!<p>

Now do you know what Kaoru's light represents? ^_^

I promise you the next chapter won't take so long. Please review.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

The train of the dress shimmered around her feet, hinting at beads of crystal and pearl. They had been sewn very carefully into large, glinting circles, edged with silver trim.

Emilee, one of the servants who had tended to Lady Kaoru throughout her long stay, adjusted the dress for perhaps the fiftieth time.

Kaoru looked at the long, oval mirror. Her reflection stared back, robed in pale blue, with a long, white sash and a white border around both trailing sleeves. These were the colours of the lines in celebration. Her hair was a mess, but Emilee insisted it be a beautiful one—all pulled high and strung through with the same pearls, the same crystal, that lay at her feet.

Embroidered in silver thread at her right breast, the circle of the initiate caught the fading sunlight.

"Where's Marcus?" she murmured.

"The sun hasn't set yet. He'll be here when it does," Emilee replied—as she had done for perhaps the last half hour. She straightened the smooth dress once more. "I've not seen a dress like this in tens of years, Lady. " Her voice was quiet with awe. With memory.

"I've never seen one like it." She smiled. "But simpler ones, yes. I didn't realize what I was asking for."

"No," the woman murmured. "But Helda, now Helda was happy to do it. "

Lady Kaoru smiled, remembering the look on the elderly seamstress's face.

_Aye, I can do it, Lady, and with pleasure. It's a welcome change from the robes I'm used to making. And aye, I know the style of dress. I used to make 'em earlier. I used to be the best._

The best—Kaoru could well believe it; it explained why Helda was spared the brunt of slavery in her old age.

"I wonder where Marcus is."

Emilee sighed, but she had no heart for frustration; not on an evening like this. She could understand why her lady was nervous.

Tonight, before the assembly of lords, priests, and slaves, the Dark Lord would take her as bond-mate.

It's a two-edged thing, Emilee thought, as she pulled the sleeve out of Kaoru's tight hands and smoothed it down. _But you're a better mistress than any we'd hoped for, and with you at his side, he's a better master_. She could even think of him, in his black and red, without shivering or falling silent. _Mind_, she added to herself, it's _taken the many long months_.

She wanted her lady to be happy, if happiness was granted to anyone in the empire who wasn't born black-blooded. If not for the scar on her right arm, Emilee might have even been completely content to serve such a one.

Kaoru knew this, and knew it further as the praise that it was.

There was a knock on the door, and the nervous lady in question turned round so violently that Emilee left off thinking and began to straighten out the train once more.

"Be still, lady. I'll answer it."

Before she could leave, the door swung open.

There was a moment of silence.

"Marcus?"

The doctor smiled at the incredulity contained by the word. He gave a low bow. "At the service of my lady."

"Is that you?"

"Indeed." He turned, allowing her to see the back of the green velvet jacket he wore over a single ruffle. "Do you like it?" A walking cane, of dark hardwood and gold handle, tapped the ground in time to his words.

"I—where did you get it?"

His smile deepened. "The Lord himself sent me to Helda, no less, to be fitted. If I am to be worthy of being your escort, I must look the part, must I not?"

He walked over to where she stood and offered her his arm. His smile faded a little. "I haven't done this in years," he said softly.

She knew who he was thinking about. In silence she took the offered arm.

"But not tonight." He made an effort and was surprised to find that the smile that returned to him was genuine. "I'll not mar your evening with foolish musings."

"Thank you," she said quietly.

"No, Lady. Thank you." He began to lead her out of the room, and Emilee stopped him.

"Marcus, you lout, have you forgotten?"

"Forgotten?"

"You'll need both Trin and Tanya to carry the train. If you'll wait for a moment, I'll summon them—they're in the other room being as nervous as she is."

Kaoru grimaced. "That obvious?" she whispered to Marcus.

"I will be with you." His arm tightened encouragingly.

Two young girls, dressed in less complicated visions of blue and white, were ushered firmly into the lady's presence by a clucking Emilee.

"Now mind what I've told you, and don't drop the train until the Lady's met up with the Lord. Understood?"

They nodded quite solemnly, although Lady Kaoru caught the doubtful glance that Tanya gave to the long, complicated train.

"Good, then. Off with you; I've only a short while to reach the galleries myself and I don't want to miss a thing." She smiled warmly at her young lady.

"Lady Kaoru, Bright Lord bless you." She bowed quite low and then left the room in a hurry.

Trin and Tanya each took part of the heavy train, and Marcus led her out of the room.

The halls had never seemed either so long or so empty.

"It's quiet," she whispered, but even this seemed to echo.

"Should be." Marcus smiled. "I don't know how you managed it, but I think every palace slave, and the ones that tend the outer grounds as well, will be in attendance for you. You might be nervous, but I think they're jubilant. No, this way, remember?"

She nodded, obviously not remembering.

He stopped for a moment and hugged her. It was a careful, gentle gesture—he didn't want to be the one to ruin Emilee's solid labour.

"Don't be too afraid, Lady."

"I'm trying." Her smile was nervous.

"I know. But I mean what I said; the slaves here are almost ecstatic." He looked down at his velvet-covered arm. "We've grown to know you; you've earned the confidence we offer. And this rite is the best way to tell us all that you'll not be leaving us. Even if the rite of bonding means nothing to the nobility, those below know it well." He drew back. "Are you happy?"

"I think so."

"Then come. They're waiting. "

_Waiting? Yes, I guess they are_. The halls that seemed so long and endless suddenly dwindled into inches. They opened up to pale, large doors of wood, with gold inlay that followed their peaked arches and danced around their handles. This simple design had replaced the black ones that Kenshin had all but torn off their hinges once. She liked them better.

There were guards on either side, but at her request, they had been chosen from among the regular troops. She wasn't certain they were much better than the Swords, but at least they were not Yamidarians.

It was one of the many requests that the Servant had granted her. She looked at the doctor, resplendent in his formal attire.

They nodded smartly, and the door rolled open.

She froze for a moment as she looked in. The pews were full, lined with faces that she did not recognize. She saw curiosity there, mingled with hostility, envy, and fear: the nobility of Darthia, of all Yamidaria.

She raised her head as she passed beneath the arch of the doors. Let them see her then, as enemy, as foe. Not for them had she walked this far. As she looked up, she saw the galleries. She had never seen them occupied—and could never have imagined that they could hold so many.

Most of the people were on their feet, and many of the children were nearly leaning over the balcony. One, a boy she recognized from her time in the clinic, had the temerity to wave and smile before his mother caught his hand to still him. He did not, however, make any noise.

These slaves were her people. These were the ones she cared about, these and one other.

She looked straight ahead for the first time since entering the chamber and saw him standing where once had stood an altar. As that altar had been, he was cold and dark in its place. Robed in black and red, he waited for her.

The white and the blue of the Bright Lord walked quietly to meet him.

"Kenshin."

"Kaoru." He took her hand. It trembled in his. He looked carefully at her, seeing for a moment the silver and gray that the Noranen wore into the fields.

No other had worn the white and the blue thus in his presence. Although he had known what she would wear, he found himself nonetheless surprised to see it.

Very gravely he bowed his head to her, and they both turned as one to face their audience.

"You must address them, Kaoru, as initiate of the Bright Lord. This at least, I will not do."

He kept to that intention firmly, as she knew he would. For a moment, staring out into the pews, her memory failed her. These nobles of differing stations—these were not meant to share what she wished to make known.

"Lady?"

She looked up once again, to the still and silent faces in the galleries. She saw the hope that Marcus had promised shining down like rays of dawn between the clouds.

To them she could speak.

She'd practiced her lines many times in the last few months, but even as she began to speak, she realized for the first time that they were out of place. She looked up at Kenshin and saw his unwavering amber eyes as he waited.

"Friends, family, and those who wish us well," she began. Her voice stopped as she thought of Okita. Although she could never wish the life of the empire upon him, she missed his presence sorely. And old Mai would never see her bonded either—she'd be angry, if she knew. Swallowing, Kaoru continued. "We have asked you here, and you have honoured us with your presence.

"Today, before those of you who have made our life more complete, we wish to make our oath known, that you might witness it, and see in it some measure of the joy we feel."

She stopped speaking, and Kenshin tightened his grip, as if to lend her his strength, or the odd warmth of his purpose.

_May the Bright Lord bless you, as he has blessed us. May the light of his love shine between us; let the bond that we feel be a vessel for it_. Oh, yes, she had practiced the words well, and often—but she found that they would not leave her lips, not in Darthia.

In this place, to speak of the Bright Lord was to invoke the Dark Lord as well. She looked at Kenshin, and he raised an eyebrow.

No. Today, the only two hearts that concerned her were not bridged by blood-wars, but by love.

"Bless us," she said softly. "Wish us well. We have come to a road that many, and none, have walked; there are shadows here, and mysteries, but we have the light of our love to guide us. Help us, if you know the way."

She nodded quietly to Trin, and the young girl approached her carefully with a simple silver goblet.

Kaoru took it carefully and murmured a few words. Her hands passed over it three times. In answer, the water contained therein began to glow very, very gently.

Kenshin saw this; he could not fail to. But he smiled nonetheless and nodded to still the momentary uncertainty in her eyes. _It is only a little pain, Kaoru. I will bear it_. But although he had told her this many times, he knew that she was still uncertain.

Slowly, cautiously, she held it up to his mouth. He steadied her with his cold, still hands, and allowed the bright liquid to pass his lips.

It burned as it slid down his throat; the smile that touched his lips froze in place. Tonight he desired to share no pain with her. He closed his eyes. The pain went deep, but not as deep as he expected. He traced its passage, summoned his power to deal with it, and then held back.

He had touched her once with the finger of the Dark Lord, and she had borne it. Could he do any less?

He opened his eyes to see that she had not moved.

_Ah, Kaoru_. The light . . . He wanted to touch it, to keep it. Without thinking, he cupped it in his hands and found himself holding her face.

Without pulling back, she lifted the goblet to her lips, and drank as he had done.

Then, smiling, she turned to give it back to its bearer.

"Our love, like the water, flows between us."

"_Our" love, Kaoru?_ He knew it was important to her to be spared none of the truth. But was this not mortal love? Did he not honour her above all others, desire her in a way that not even Saito, most learned of the Searvants, could have guessed at?

"Like the waters," he answered as she had taught him, although the pain they had caused still burned at his blood.

She took his hand.

"Above all others, I have chosen you. If you will have it, I will swear my oath, and we shall be bonded."

He said nothing, and she continued, "But before you answer, know this: That all of life is endless change and endless growth. We will face our adversity, our sickness, our battles, and these will contrive to hurt us by dimming what we feel now. Love is not for the weak at heart, nor is it an act of destiny. It is what we choose, and to keep it alive, we will have to choose often."

Her smile was softer, but beneath it he felt the determination in her ritual.

"Know then," he said, touching her cheek gently, "that I have chosen you." He smiled as she started, her blue eyes wide. _No, Kaoru, they are not the words of the Noranen ritual; they are mine, as you are._

She shook herself slightly, her smile bearing a hint of wryness as she realized she could expect no less from the First of the Dark Lord. That smile changed as she continued. "Then take my oath, as I shall take yours."

"I shall."

"I will remain with you, in trust and faith."

"I will remain."

"We will know the passing of years, and the growth and change that it brings. Let our love give a value to the years we have chosen, that neither age nor time will tarnish. Let us choose no other, nor let another come between what we have chosen for ourselves."

He was silent a moment then, his face suddenly still. He reached out to touch her again, to feel the soft, smooth warmth of her living skin. His nod was quiet and intense.

"Let no adversity, no illness, no injury, come between all that we are."

"None shall. None."

Her voice dropped. "And when death parts us, one from the other, let us wait for each other at the bridge of the beyond, and we shall cross together."

He almost didn't hear her, for her words, the words that had seemed mere mortal ceremony, had a sudden, grim reality._ Time . . . age . . . death._ These were not things that he had ever feared; he was of the beginning, of the time before man and before the taint of life. No mortality had ever touched him. And none ever would.

He felt her arms around him and saw the pale blur of her face as she tilted it, just so, He kissed her, but quickly, then pulled back, holding her to study the lines of her face.

There was clapping in the galleries. Perhaps something of the same from one or two isolated individuals in the pews. It didn't matter. For his mind was occupied with different thoughts. How many years had she lived? Seventeen, his perfect memory told him. Very young to the mortal standards and to his. How many more years will she live? Forty? Fifty? Nothing. Time was nothing to an immortal Nightwalker, it passes like a blink of an eye. And the years that would follow would change her, until at last, like the oldest and weakest of slaves, she succumbed to death and the beyond.

_No. No. She is mine._

Looking at her, seeing the strength of her light—her love, as he knew it—he was determined to make sure that time and death understood well the claim that he made.

"Behold," he said, raising her hand in his own and addressing a point beyond the audience. "The lady of the Lord of the Empire."

* * *

><p>"First of the Sundered."<p>

Kenshin turned, already knowing whom he would see; no other came into his private chambers without announcing his presence first. "You answered the summons quickly."

Saito smiled, shadow mixing with gray over a glint of sharp teeth. It was a disconcertingly human expression for one who was farthest removed from human things, but Kenshin understood it for what it was; he smiled in return.

This was Saito, the Third of the Servants of the Dark Lords, who rarely ventured into the mortal world.

"Pleasantry, Kenshin? Your time among the mortals shows. Who among the lesser Servants would not hasten to your summons?"

"Indeed." The First inclined his head, waiting for a moment. If Saito had no other weakness, he had his curiosity, and Kenshin enjoyed allowing it to burn at him.

Saito's smile faded; he understood the game. "Why have you summoned me, and why with such urgency? It has been only a few years since I last walked this plane, and I am involved in my research."

"It has been, old friend, a human generation."

"What of it?" Saito moved restlessly. "I am still Third, Kenshin. I am not like the others, to be held till dispersal at your whim."

"No." Kenshin nodded almost amiably. But it was forced, and they both knew it. "Very well, Third. I need the knowledge that you have spent time hoarding."

"Ah. It is too much to hope that you wish to travel as I have travelled."

"Indeed. My concern is here, near our Lord."

"Ah, well. Perhaps when you have conquered, and you tire of it, you will truly begin to learn."

"Enough."

"Ask, then. The fire awaits me."

Kenshin nodded. "I wish to cure the taint of mortality."

"The taint of mortality?"

"Indeed. Among my subjects, there is one that I do not wish to die."

"And that one?"

"It is not of your concern, Saito." His voice was cold. "But if it is necessary to know it, she is half blooded—Noranen."

"Ah," Saito whispered, his yellow eyes flashing with inhuman emotions. "That would explain much. As half blood, she is very strong; I am peripherally aware of her presence, though I have not searched for it. " He looked up to meet the eyes of the First.

"No. Do not ask me why. Perhaps in time I will tell you, but I will not tell you now."

Saito's frustration was visible and immediate, but he said nothing, duly noting Kenshin's mood. He turned his mind and experience to the question; in and of itself, it was fascinating. How did one remove the taint of mortality from the mortal?

Kenshin waited.

With some annoyance, most of it directed at himself, Saito said, "I am afraid that I cannot immediately answer your question."

"You?" A hint of surprise in the First's voice did nothing to still the Third's annoyance.

"Indeed. I must . . . look into it."

"Then look. But know that I am waiting—and know that you do not have long." He rose, then, and left Saito alone.

* * *

><p>"Kenshin?"<p>

He felt her fingers brush gently against his chest as he stared up at the blue, curtained canopy. "Yes?"

"What is it? What's been bothering you?"

He looked down at her, seeing her face as she moved, day by day, closer to the death that would separate them. Normally she would have been sleeping by this time. "It is nothing, little one. Sleep."

He felt her warmth as she curled around him.

"I can't. This thing—whatever it is—it's been bothering you for the last four weeks, since the rite. "

He sighed. When had it become so difficult to hide his thoughts from her?

"Kaoru." His voice was quiet. "You are aging. Even as I watch, I can see the march of days."

She was startled, and then silent a moment as she absorbed what he said. "I forget that you are a Servant," she said at last. "I think the Lady saw as you see. But what of it? I'm mortal, love."

His grip tightened.

"I didn't think of it before, I'm sorry. But I am mortal. I've always lived with it. "

"Mortal. And you will know age; you will know death."

"Yes." She shivered.

"No." He pulled away from her suddenly and rose.

"Kenshin!"

But he did not stop. Like a shadow he drifted out of her room, leaving her alone in the darkness.

_Saito._

* * *

><p>It was a full month before the Third of the Nightwalkers returned with the answer to his question.<p>

"To change her nature is impossible. The taint of mortality is her life; to remove it would kill her."

The First was silent in the face of the words of the Third.

And then Saito smiled; two could play a game of waiting—but only if one held information that the other needed. With the First, however, the wait had to be short. "There is another way."

"Speak it, then. Quickly."

"She is half blood. And half of that blood—the blood, I believe, of the Lady of Noria, Lady Kamiya— is not in and of itself prey to mortal whim. Through that half, Kenshin, you might choose to bind her to you."

"Bind her? I do not understand."

Saito allowed himself another, smaller smile. "It is not an easy thing; it requires, I believe, at least the blood of a Servant. But if you have that at your disposal, you might learn to use it as a link between yourself, our Lord, and her blood. You are the stronger; you would be the focus of it. Through the part of her that is not mortal, you might bind her life to yours."

Kenshin leaned forward, almost transfixed. "Tell me, then. How?"

And Saito did, while Kenshin absorbed each word. At length he sat back, feeling more at ease than he had in nearly two months.

That ease shattered as Saito spoke again. "Of course, she is not Yamidarian. The Servant required would not be among us. He has to be a Servant of the Bright Lord. " The words were almost casual.

Kenshin closed his eyes.

* * *

><p>It was cool in Darthia, but the chill that bothered Kaoru had little to do with the weather. Nor was it the bleak, interminable stretch of city landscape; the gray of the city was something she'd adjusted to; and Kenshin had succeeded, in the end, in his attempt to convince her of the beauty inherent in subtle shades of shadow. Beneath the closed doors of her balcony she could hear the murmuring of her people as they walked between their homes and the market, their colourful clothing welcome contrast to reds and blacks. She smiled momentarily at the knowledge that even in Darthia the market was not a quiet place. Then the smile dimmed; Darthia was still Darthia, and in her eleven months here she had done little enough to change it.<p>

She began to pace the carpeted floor of her bedroom, crushing the standing blue wool beneath her weary steps. At least here, in her quarters, colour prevailed. Kenshin always thought it loud and impossible—much like its sole occupant. Again she smiled, and again the smile faded, but this time more rapidly.

_What am I to do?_ She wrapped her arms around her shoulders, shivering. Her first impulse, and her last, was to call the First Servant into her presence and ask for his advice; for almost a year he had been at her side in any situation she considered a crisis. She hadn't called him yet, and she wouldn't, not this time.

_Okita, why did you have to come?_

Although he wasn't with her now, she shut her eyes against the pain and confusion that was his parting gift to her. He had always had an expressive face. She could still see him clearly, as he walked toward the door of the room, placed one hand upon the knob, and stopped. He kept his face pressed against the wood of the door as he spoke.

Kaoru, Kaoru, what has happened to you?

"Nothing."

_Not nothing, Kaoru. I know you well enough to know that. You don't even look pleased to see me. Doesn't my news mean anything to you?_

He'd turned then, his face a mask of white over the white of his power. White, radiant, brilliant—everything Kaoru had struggled so hard to put aside for too many months. She looked inward, saw a light that matched his, and felt the sting of tears take her eyes. He held out his arms then, and she stood immobile, half-comprehending, half-fearing. Okita's arms, clothed in the indifferent rags of slavery, fell to either side.

"Will you help us, Kaoru of Noria?"

She knew what it cost him to be so formal—it wasn't his way, and it couldn't be the product of time. She opened her mouth to comfort him, and the words came out wrong.

"I don't know. I don't think you have a chance against him."

"Kaoru, a Servant of the Light is with us. Sagara is with us."

She shoved aside the memory, turned abruptly, and walked over to the balcony. With an almost furious tug, the paned doors flew open. Outside, Darthia sprawled in a familiar, tangled web. _When_, she thought, _did this cease to be a prison? When did I learn to value the small light that it holds?_

And as always, the doubt returned, stronger for the visit of Okita, and more painful.

_Have I lost the light? Bright Lord, Bright Lord, help me._

There was no answer, nor did she expect one. But today the use of His name gave her no peace, no respite.

_Year-mate, line-brother, forgive me, but why, God why, did you have to come now?_

His answer, complete with its mix of determination and worry, returned to echo around the empty walls of her room.

"We come to kill the First of the Dark Lord."

And a year ago, eleven months ago, Kaoru knew that she would have willingly been among them. She wanted to tell him then that the First was also her bond-mate, rited and promised. But silence held sway in the face of her fear and the echoes of shame that she suddenly felt.

_We come to bring you home, Kaoru._

_Home?_ This was home, this strange and ugly city with its legacy of death and violence, with its dark and grim Lord. Her stomach twisted, and her hands shot out to grip the gilded iron of the balcony railing.

They're right, all of them. Without the First Servant, Darthia will fall, Yamidaria will fall, and with it the threat of the Dark. The Noranen will be able to heal the wounds that are left. She knew that it would be better for her people; they would know freedom again—a freedom that she could not completely give them, even now. But the First was also bond-mate. She struggled to keep the opposing images apart, even as she struggled to put them together.

"Kaoru?"

She wheeled around.

"Does something trouble you?"

"I—" Words fell away as her feet tripped lightly across the floor. He stood in the centre of the room, silent as ever, cloak unfurling naturally to let her in. Without thinking, she brought her arms up and held them out as if to embrace him. Before she could, his own hands, strong and sure, gripped her shoulders.

"Kaoru, what is this?" Very gently his fingers brushed her cheek. "Tears, Lady? Dry them. Soon, someday soon, the work you wish to do with this city and this land will be yours to accomplish as you see fit. I swear it."

She shook her head. "Darkling."

She felt herself being pulled into his arms, felt the coolness of his chin as it rested against her hair.

"Lady, when the Empire of Yamidaria is complete, I will give it to you. If the land is too difficult for the day, close your doors and shut it out."

This man—this Servant—was responsible for so much of the destruction that had swept the land. Three kingdoms had fallen to his attack in the last century; more beyond that, she was sure. How many more would fall, how many people would die or be delivered into slavery?

_They're right_. She thought it again, felt it resonate too deeply within her for expression. _He must die. If I love him, does it change that fact?_

But her arms curled tightly around him in denial. She knew why the Noranen had come and that tomorrow she would learn how. She knew what the results of their intended action would be—had she not been Kaoru of Noria?

But she knew also that Kenshin had not walked, in the manner of his kind, for almost a year, that he could dwell under the unforgiving glare of sunlight and open day, and that for her sake he had banished the ceremonies of the Church from his palace—from the core of the dark Empire.

Almost without her knowledge, the bands of her light crept slowly outward. She could not see the smile of wonder and appreciation that turned the corners of her Lord's mouth upward in a gentle smile. The light, her light, was always new to him. It came wrapping itself around him as tightly as Kaoru's small arms.

_Bright Lord forgive me. I love him._

* * *

><p>Dinner was a subdued affair. Although Kaoru smiled and spoke as usual, her eyes were shuttered and impassive.<p>

"Lady, what troubles you?"

"Nothing. Why do you ask?"

"Curiosity, Kaoru, only curiosity." But although he was unwilling to press her further, he watched her closely for the rest of the meal, and she was aware of each passing minute. For the first time in four years she longed for the comfort of anonymity.

She asked him a question, and dimly acknowledged his answer, but it meant nothing at all to her. The tines of her fork stabbed aimlessly at pieces of food as she pushed them around her plate.

At last, when she could suffer his scrutiny no longer, she rose, pulling the creased napkin from out of her crepe-covered lap.

"Kenshin, I'm—I'd like to have a little time to myself. I'm going to go back to my room."

" 'Kenshin'?" He smiled. "You are indeed troubled, Lady. You have used nothing but my chosen name for the entirety of our meal together. It is more formal than you are given to being."

She grew rigid for a moment; Kenshin could almost hear her muscles lock before she forced herself to relax. With a wan smile and a mumbled word of apology she left the great hall for the comfort of her quarters.

Kenshin watched her go. A faint, faint shiver touched his neck as he contemplated her action.

_It has been long, Kaoru, since you have been so troubled. It is almost as if . . ._

Rising, he, too, left the hall.

* * *

><p>I am waiting, Sagara.<p>

She pulled her robe in a tighter circle around her upper body. She had long since ceased to pace the confines of her room; there was no answer in the movement and it wearied her. The doors were firmly shut, and the curtains had been tightly pulled. The shiver at the base of her spine spoke of a meeting to follow that no prying eyes should see inadvertently. What they saw if they were careful or cunning she could not prevent, but she did what she could, as always. The sun had faded from sky, leaving the clarity of cloudless night in its wake, and still she waited.

_Sagara,_ she thought, staring at the wall without seeing it,_ come now, come if you must._ She was dimly aware that she should feel some dread at the coming interview, but could gather only a numbness in response.

_If you were dead, they would be free. And if I did not love you, I would help in your destruction for their sake. It is why I am Kaoru of Noria; it is what the lines are sworn to. How selfish am I allowed to be?_

Then, as she maintained her vigil, the air in the room began to shift. A soft breeze, sweet and clear as the air in her village had always been, touched her cheek and her memory. She felt for the direction of it, turning her face instinctively to catch the crystal sparkling of a foreign lattice in the room. It robbed the night of shadow, touching the walls, the bed, and the young woman with gentle fingers of equal brilliance.

Sagara. She sighed, moved by his appearance in a way that she had not expected. Only twice before had she seen the arrival of the Bright Lord's Servants, yet even as she watched she felt that she was seeing something new and precious unfold before her. The very room seemed to welcome his presence.

"Kaoru."

Sagara, cloaked in form and shape so welcome to the lines, stood before her, his light both weapon and armour. His eyes brilliant blue. His hands were at his side, but she felt that they were open, calling her to enter the ring of his arms. She had forgotten how beautiful a true Servant could be. No, not forgotten, she thought to herself. My memory couldn't retain this. I don't think any human memory could.

"Kaoru." He said it again, the timbre of the word resounding in her stillness. "You are well."

"I am, Sagara." She bowed then, low and formal, her knees trembling beneath her.

"We feared the worst, little one. How come you to be here, and safe?"

"Kenshin of the Enemy keeps me at his side."

"Kenshin? Is that not the name of—"

She felt a blush rising in her cheek.

His brow, so flawless in complexion, creased slightly. A frown, rare for the Servants of the Light, touched his lips, but Kaoru was certain that it was not directly connected to her words. His eyes fell upon her, and she was reminded of another time when he had gazed at her the same look. There was sorrow and resignation in eyes that should have held nothing but peace and beauty. Without stopping to think, Kaoru stepped forward and laid one hand against his breast.

"Sagara."

He reached up then, cupping her face between his hands. They were cool and bore the faintest scent of orvas.

"It may be," he said as he looked into the green of her eyes, "that my path differs from that of Lady Kamiya. I must try, little one." But his words lacked conviction.

"What is it that you must try, Sagara?"

She knew what his answer would be and felt it keenly as his words touched her mind.

"The destruction of the First of the Enemy."

She pulled her face away and turned her back upon him.

"Kaoru, in this your help is necessary."

"What can I do? I've tried to escape the confines of the palace before and I'm still here."

"Yes. And that troubles me."

She heard his words clearly and felt a growing ache as they echoed into silence. Trembling, she turned to face him again. He looked at her for a long while, his eyes unmoving and unblinking. At last he stepped forward, the light following his movement.

"I do not understand what has happened here, Kaoru, but be at peace. Either my hope will come true, or the Lady's. If you have a choice in either, make your choice free of guilt or regret; we each must do what we perceive possible. For my part, I must fight the Servant of the Enemy. I ask for your help, but if you are unable to grant it, I ask only that you do not interfere. Do not warn him of our presence here."

"I—" She bent her head. "Sagara, Servant, I will do what I am able to do. But I—"

His fingers touched her trembling lips, stilling their movement. "Hush, little one. For you the road must indeed be hard—I did not understand that until this moment. But I will trust what you are. Do you the same."

Mutely she shook her head from side to side, but the movement was so slight that Sagara appeared to have missed it. He continued to speak, his voice unbearably gentle. Tears touched the corners of Kaoru's eyes, trailing listlessly down her cheeks. It had been long since she had heard a voice completely free from the shadow of the Enemy, and she discovered with pain and surprise that she had missed it.

"On the morrow, Kaoru, the warriors of Noria will come with me to the palace. There we will confront the Dark Lord and attempt to bring about his destruction. He does not know of our presence—at great cost to the Bright Lord. With surprise on our side, we should be able to accomplish our task.

"If you will help us, do so. If you will not, absent yourself from the company of the First of the Enemy if you have that option.

"But regardless of your choice, I bid you be at peace. Bright Lord alone knows what you have seen this past year, and to Bright Lord alone must you answer."

He bent his head then and gently kissed her brow. Leaning slightly into the comfort of the pressure of his mouth, she closed her eyes, and by doing so missed the look of pity that briefly touched his features. His arms enfolded her, cradled her in their warmth.

That warmth lingered as the Servant of Bright Lord faded into the night as quietly as he had come, but with his passing the chill returned.

In all her short life, Kaoru, born Kaoru of Noria, had never felt so alone.

* * *

><p>Poor Kaoru, torn between duty and love. It will be bleak, the coming chapters, but most of the story is, isn't it?<p>

Thanks for your reviews.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

The morning came, gray and unrelenting. Kaoru pulled herself reluctantly from her bed and over to her closet. She opened the door weakly, sunlight at her back revealing the clothing that hung so lifelessly along the wall.

Kaoru always dressed in such a way as to alleviate the gloom of Darhtia, but for the first time in years it was not the darkness outside that she feared. Without thinking she pulled one robe out of the closet and brought it to her bed, where it was casually laid aside. She unfastened the ties of her nightclothing and stepped out of it, thinking about the day ahead. She would have to see to the infirmary, then journey out to the market's center, to the place of judgment, where she would sit beside her Lord and listen to the pleas of those who had made it this far.

_Sagara_. The name slid into her mind effortlessly, but it was not as easily dislodged. Shaking herself, she bent and began to fold her nightgown, placing it to one side of the bed. Emilee would come for it in half an hour, and in the eve a new gown would be available.

_Sagara. What must I do?_

Blindly she turned to the bed to lift the day's clothing in tired hands. Only then, with the sunlight glinting off a circle of silver, did she see clearly which of her robes she had chosen. Picking it up, she clutched it tightly to her breast and cheek, waiting for tears that would not come.

* * *

><p>Kenshin stood at the end of the hall. Kaoru saw him clearly as she rounded the corner only minutes after leaving the physician's rooms. She caught a glimmer of the sun from one of the high windows and, tracing that beam to the floor, sighed. <em>Late again, as always.<em>

"Lady." Kenshin bowed, low and formal, as she approached him. "The time draws near. Will you travel with me to the place of judgment?"

"I will." Her answer was automatic; she could say it without thought, as she had said it every week for the last few months. The place of judgment was something she had taken from her people and, with no small effort, implanted here. Kenshin had been curious about it, the Church furious. She was never sure which of those two things had decided him.

He offered her his arm and she took it, walking woodenly at his side. He noted the robes of his Enemy's priesthood, but forbore to comment on them; something troubled Kaoru and, if those robes gave her comfort, she was welcome to them.

But as they walked out to where the carriage waited, he noted the lag of her step. _She is tired, _he thought, chilled by it, thinking of the countless illnesses which can touch mortals. He pulled his own robes more tightly around him as the glare of open sunlight touched his face. A strange pride touched him, and he lifted his face to the sun's rays. Mere months ago, a blink of time, he would not have thought it possible. But now, he realized, helping Kaoru to her seat with a quiet intensity, now anything is possible.

The carriage moved quickly down the cobbled streets, and Kaoru hated the fact, for she could hear the rough shouts of the men who drove and see pedestrians leaping out of the vehicle's path. Their faces flickered by too quickly for Kaoru to catch their expressions, but she was familiar enough with her people to know their fear or panic.

_At least we won't hit anyone._

She drew a weak comfort from that, remembering clearly the body of the child that they had left in the wake of their first ride. She had stopped the carriage and stumbled out, too late to help the child, too noble to be of comfort to the parent who sat blindly cradling the tiny corpse.

Her eyes fell upon Kenshin's handsome but impassive profile. _You stopped those deaths. For me. _Silent, she leaned into his side and felt his arm slide round her shoulders.

"Kaoru," he said into her hair, "if you wish, we may shorten the hearings."

She shook her head.

"Or you may absent yourself from them altogether and wait for me in the carriage."

She shook her head again, more forcefully. She knew it was not the First of the Enemy that they came to make their pleas to. She would find the strength to hear them out and to help them, for although she was weary, she was still a Noranen.

"Very well." He held her the more tightly, as if to shield her from some future ordeal. "We are almost at the pavilion."

Nodding, she let the rest of the landscape pass her by in a gray blur, her face pressed into her Lord's side. He was cold. She felt his hand move to her cheek and lifted her face to him. He was staring at her with a familiar glint in his eyes and as he leaned closer she closed her eyes and allowed her lips to be captured by his cold ones. His kiss was far from gentle, yet she was familiar with his demanding and possessive gestures. Her lips answered.

"Little one..." he breathed against her mouth. "You are troubled."

Kaoru opened her eyes and without answering clung to him as he wrapped both arms around her body. Normally she found a warmth beyond touch at his side. Sagara came between them this time.

The carriage came to a halt, and a doorman appeared on the instant to allow them out of the coach. Kenshin stepped down and turned to aid his lady—something no guard or slave dared do while he was present. He felt her stumble slightly and braced her arm while she completed her tentative steps to the ground.

"Sunlight becomes you, Kaoru." He began to lead her to the pavilion. "One day I shall capture the sun for you, and it will shine for your pleasure alone."

She smiled then, moved by the forced lightness of his words. "And I, my Lord, will set it free at that moment, to let it touch all faces alike and to marvel at their beauty."

"And will you take nothing for yourself?"

"I have what I need." But her smile slipped away. She looked up, then, to the deep blue stripes of the tent, twisting around lines of darker gray. The flaps were open upon two ornate chairs, one large and tall with gold leaf and inlay, the other light and simple. She listened to the dying chatter of the market, noting that people, clutching their purchases in baskets or under arms as befitted their station, walked quickly away from the perimeter of the area. Those that did not move quickly enough were escorted by guards, but here again no violence was offered.

_And that, too, was your gift._

She walked in the enforced silence until she reached the dais. There she took her accustomed chair, and Kenshin joined her in his own. His posture was almost regal, but in the darkness of his robes and the shadow of the tent flap, he looked, in truth, like the creature he was.

He looked at Kaoru, and she sighed.

"Ready," she murmured.

Turning, he nodded to one of his men.

"The Lord and Lady will now hear those who have come before them to be judged." His voice was loud and monotonous—like that of any mediocre herald. Kaoru tuned out the rest of the speech; it had something to do with proper behaviour, and she abhorred it. It was not what the people had come for and seemed to her to be just another obstacle to justice.

At last the herald fell silent, and the crowd began to shuffle. Most of the people here were spectators; Kaoru saw a few familiar faces, and caught a shy, young smile. She returned it then let her attention drift back to the opening among the people.

A man stepped forward. His clothing was in ill repair as only that of a fugitive can be; there were tears and rents that were so old they looked natural.

He stumbled a little before he reached the foot of the dais. There he stopped and bent forward in a harsh bow, knees snapping. Kaoru started forward involuntarily; from where she sat she could feel that the man's arm was broken and caused him great pain. She restrained herself before her Lord could, sinking with gritted teeth into the prison of her throne.

"Your case will be heard."

The man looked up. At this distance, almost close enough to reach out, Kaoru could see a long seam that marred his features. She had thought him old, but recalculated; what appeared to be wrinkles at a distance were minute scars. She could feel his eyes upon her alone as he opened his mouth.

"Bring him water," she said curtly to one of the guards. "He'll be able to speak when he's had something to drink." The men were well enough acquainted with her presence that they did not look askance at their Lord when he did not interrupt. They obeyed, their faces locked in gray neutrality and indifference. Water was brought to the man, and shoved roughly to his dry lips.

"Gently." Kaoru kept her voice even, hating the guards, hating the empire. "Drink slowly."

The man nodded, the most he was capable of, and let the water linger a few seconds in his mouth before swallowing. It was warm, but hopefully clean; and if the hearing did not go well, it would also be the last he would taste.

He did his best to heed her words, but felt the eyes of the guards boring into him.

"Please." Kaoru held out a hand. "Stand if you will be more comfortable."

Slowly and gratefully he got to his feet, gingerly avoiding the use of his right arm. As if by accident his eyes glanced furtively out to the crowd.

It was no accident. Kaoru could see that by the easing of his tension, and she sought out the eyes of the watchers herself. Someone or something waited there, important to the man who had come before her. She looked carefully but no one started guiltily, and too many eyes were upon the claimant to be able to single out any one person.

What she was attempting must have been obvious to the man, for he cleared his throat loudly, drawing her attention away from the search.

"My Lord." He bowed awkwardly. "My lady." His speech was oddly accented and shaky.

He came closer and once again assumed a kneeling posture, but this time he sat directly in front of Kaoru.

Kenshin did not fail to notice this.

"It is customary," he said, leaning slightly forward, "to give your name before you make your plea."

Stiffly the man nodded, but again in Kaoru's direction.

"Lady, you hear the plea of Raiden."

"Of what house?"

"I am with no house, Lord." The man was trembling.

"I see." Kenshin nodded, raising one hand to touch the tip of his chin meditatively, his sharp amber eyes never leaving the man. "What house claims your protection, then?"

Raiden was silent a few moments before answering.

"I am a slave."

Kaoru felt a shock of fear travel through her. It evoked an answering shudder, and she held out one hand in the direction of the First Servant.

"My Lord," she said softly, "let him speak freely."

Kenshin nodded, eyes shuttered, and Kaoru knew what the man's fate would be. She paled slightly, took a deep breath, and turned again.

"Why have you come before us?"

"To ask—to beg, if the lady wills it, for your aid and mercy."

Kaoru could see an echo of her own knowledge in the man's face and bearing.

"Show us your arm," the First interrupted coldly.

Kaoru cringed at the tone in Kenshin's voice. She met the open plea in the man's face and turned away ashamed. Weakly he lifted his left arm.

"The other one."

"Kenshin, his arm is broken; it causes him pain. Please—"

Without looking at Kaoru, Kenshin continued. "The other arm."

Raiden attempted to comply, clamping his lips shut as he did. Pain flared around him, seen clearly by Kaoru's eyes alone. With an audible curse, she thrust herself away from the confines of her chair, stepped off the platform, and came to stand at the man's side. Her hands, still as white as they had always been, came up on either side of Raiden's shoulders, and she opened the gate between his pain and her power. Effortlessly she flowed outward, and the pain receded at her touch.

"My thanks, Lady," the man whispered, but his voice was bitter and broken. "But you have wasted your energy; I do not believe you will sway your Lord this day."

She started at the strange sound of his words and paled further when she realized that the tongue was not the one used by citizens of the empire. She knew well the punishment for such a crime.

He must have seen her start, for his expression changed subtly. "Indeed, Lady, I am newly brought to the empire, from Segan. I know the robe you wear, but not how it has come to be here."

"Why did you—"

"Not because I knew you to be initiate. Because I had heard that you might sway the will of the ruler of Darhtia. Seeing you, I might well believe it—but seeing him thus, I cannot." He straightened, pulling away from her hands.

"What crime do you seek mercy for?"

He gave a brief, bitter smile. "The crime of remaining as true to Segan as I have been able."

The sound of metal against metal touched her ears, and she looked up. Two of the guards were walking toward them. Wheeling, she faced her Lord; her cheeks bore the twin flags of anger and shame.

"First Servant, I ask you not to pronounce a judgment before you have heard the case."

"Lady," he replied, all steely politeness. "I have seen with my own eyes two crimes committed here. This man that you seek to save is a slave, not in itself a crime. But he has named himself, and he speaks to you in a tongue that I have declared dead. He has earned my judgment for breaking laws that are mine."

She knew the cast of his features. Anger welled up, and she fought it down, but it was hard; she had not felt it truly for almost a year. With one deft movement, she inserted herself between the man and the approaching guards.

"Kaoru, Lady," Kenshin stood. "In other matters I have granted you leeway. I have conceded much to you, but this must fall outside of that domain. I will rule the empire. It is mine. Should I give ground to you in this case, it will only weaken the foundations that I have laid. And they are strong, but young. They need their time to grow."

The guards drew closer, their faces still completely neutral. Kaoru still barred their way, and as they reached her, they came to a nervous stop.

"Lady, please stand aside."

Kaoru met the eyes of each of the guards before turning to face Kenshin. "Lord." She bowed slightly, a tinge of bitter mockery in the gesture. She did not do as he requested, but was well aware of the futility of her defiance.

"Lady?"

She looked at him then, her eyes touching the harsh contours of his cruel but beautiful face. His mouth was set in a grim smile that gave her nothing.

"Lord," she repeated, then added, in a lower voice, "Kenshin . . ."

He shook his head once, sharply. "Not in this, Lady." Very gently, he added, "My laws must be followed if I am to govern this world."

Again he motioned to his guards, and they took a step forward, but Kaoru could see their hesitance. She knew well the dilemma they found themselves in; their Lord had given a command, albeit wordless, and yet should they harm her at all, it was worth their lives.

After a few minutes, Kenshin stepped down from his throne, to join his lady. There was nothing friendly in the movement, but nothing threatening—not for Kaoru.

She could feel the trembling of the man at her back, although he, too, kept silent as the nightwalker approached.

For a few seconds, caught between one who needed her aid and one who denied it, she felt again the strands of an old call. She had thought it dead, and realized that it must be as inseparable from what she was as this mockery of justice from him.

And Kenshin drew back as the bands of her light, so necessary and so familiar, flickered in an awkward and ugly rhythm. _No, Lady, I know what I do. _He shook his head and stepped forward again, catching her face in his hands. _I cannot give you this yet. But soon . . ._

He turned to look at the man with a cold distaste. For a moment he longed to give her what she asked for, but steeled himself against it. To cease to feed was a thing that affected only himself directly; to cease to judge was to lose control of Yamidaria, the only true goal in his existence.

"Little one."

Her eyes opened slowly.

"I am sorry. I cannot give you this slave's life. He seeks to prove a point by breaking my law before my people, and he shall indeed prove it." His grip on her tightened, and he nodded again to his guards. This time they moved quickly and efficiently to their goal.

Kaoru struggled briefly against the cold vise that held her. Tears, caught and held in, made her eyes shine with a preternatural brilliance. _You don't understand!_ She opened her mouth to say it, but the words remained locked with the tears that she would not give up.

As the guards secured the man, Kenshin released her, his fingers lingering against her cheek. He turned and walked back to the dais while Kaoru stood still in the center of the square. She watched his back as it receded.

"Wait!"

Both the guards and their Lord turned at her words, stopping at the command inherent in them. With a few quick steps she approached Raiden, the captive slave.

The leader of the guard stepped in front of her before the hand she reached out could make contact. He offered her no violence and no threat, but would not move out of her way.

Turning rapidly, she sought the eyes of Kenshin and found them, as ever, upon her.

"My Lord, please let me speak with your prisoner. I've no choice but to accept your judgment, but I—"

Silent, he motioned and the captain stepped away, eyes betraying none of the curiosity he must have felt.

Raiden met her eyes with his own bleak, gray-brown ones. He gave a tremulous smile and spoke again in the tongue of his youth.

"Priestess, I thank you for what you have tried to do. I should have known that it is still the Lord that rules."

"Yes." Her voice was soft and gentle, but contained all of the bitterness she felt. Reaching out, she again touched his arm, her fingers dancing along skin bare through rents in his tunic.

"What are you doing?"

She tried not to meet his eyes, knowing the cost to herself, but she failed because it was in her nature to do so. Her tears, controlled so far, spilled over to adorn her face and the fingers that were tentatively raised to catch them.

"I am dulling your pain. For later."

He nodded.

In a rush, before she could lose control of her voice, she said, "I don't believe you came here just to make a point. You came for something. Ask it; as long as it is not your life, I will grant it."

He closed his eyes on the hope that she offered and then shrugged his arms free of the guards who loosely held them.

"Lady . . ." His voice was so quiet that had she not been so intent upon the words, she would have missed them. "In the crowd, my wife and child are watching. For myself, I can ask nothing, and maybe it is better so; I am—"

She touched his lips with the tip of her fingers, and he nodded against them.

"My wife is of your height, but her hair is darkened. The roots are pale and blond; you will see them as you approach. My child—my daughter—the same, but she is smaller. She is dressed as a boy; she speaks but little.

"We were slaves in the House Calvar and worked from their summer home, two days' journey from the city."

Kaoru nodded; the name meant something to her.

"My daughter was to be given to Deven of Calvar. To spare her that, we have travelled to you."

"Deven? But he's just a boy."

"Yes. And out of the three that have been given to him previously, not one has survived the week."

"So you—"

"We risked our lives for the chance of your intervention. Even if we failed, my daughter's chances would be no less, and her death more pleasant." He lowered his voice. "We had heard of you, even in House Calvar—that you listened to the pleas of the poor in your city, you judged fairly, and that you granted the Lord's mercy. You were our only chance. And I knew that to approach you here, as a free man, would cost me much. " Suddenly he grabbed her arms. One of the guards started forward, and Kaoru gave a vicious shake of her head.

"Save my child. Take her for one of your own. I have seen you; I know what you are. If you cannot take my wife, she will understand; we have spoken and she has agreed." He released her then and turned to his executioners. They began to walk away.

"Raiden."

All five stopped at the word.

"What are their names?"

"Names?" He laughed bitterly and turned again.

His laughter hung in the air. Chilled, Kaoru turned to the crowd and began to scan the faces it held. She saw the mixture of fear, respect, and satisfaction that mingled in the unknown spectators, and passed them by; she knew what she was looking for. Raiden's description had not been clear—any number of women matched it—but Kaoru knew she would have no difficulty.

One face, perhaps two, would hold the emotions of shock and bereavement, and she would not return to the dais until she had found them.

Once her eyes swept fruitlessly across the crowd, and once again, but on the third pass, at the very edge, she could see one stiff, still figure, with another huddled beside it.

She focused on the two of them and began to push her way through the crowd. People parted only slowly, and she felt the hands and fingers of many brush against the gray of her robes, and heard the whisper of plea or prayer that accompanied the gestures. _Not now._

The huddled figure drew closer, and as it did, it straightened suddenly and looked up.

Contact.

Pain. Anger. Fear—the last, so strong and fierce and pure because it was fear for another, born out of love and desperation. The blue, blank eyes gave way to a storm that streaked out to touch the Kaoru of Noria, to call her forward.

The smaller figure pulled at the larger one, wordless, and the larger one—caught by Kaoru's eyes—pushed her away.

The little one, whose face was still soft with the contours of youth, whispered something that Kaoru could not catch. The older woman spoke, her voice harsh but low. The girl nodded and held out a hand, which her mother took firmly. Her eyes never left Kaoru's face.

As Kaoru reached them, she gave a half bow; the only public acknowledgment she could make of their loss. Nor was the bow returned, but she hadn't expected it to be.

The woman stood her ground; she did not flinch as Kaoru reached out and gripped her arm with one strong hand. She touched the child in the same way.

"Come," she said softly.

"Where?" The woman spoke the tongue of Yamidaria.

"To the Lord. I—" Her voice broke as she turned her eyes away from the woman's pain. She caught herself and forced words past stiff lips. "I wish to—to claim your ownership."

"We are already owned." As if to make the point more clearly, the woman raised her right arm. Her sleeve rolled away to reveal the mark of the House Calvar. She nodded at her daughter to do likewise, but Kaoru had a firm grip on the girl's arm, and not for such a statement would she release it.

Taking a deep breath, Kaoru said, "You bear the mark of House Calvar. Yet you are not in their holdings now."

"What matter? We will be returned there soon enough." At this, the woman's eyes flared briefly to life as they darted to the child she and her husband had failed. Her husband . . . Kaoru caught the wave of her pain and her grip tightened.

"You will not be returned to them. They have proven their . . . dereliction of ownership. You should know that anyone can claim ownership of you now. Come. Please."

The woman began to walk forward, but suddenly stopped, grasping tight the hand that held her.

"Lady." She fell awkwardly to her knees, bowing her head to hide her expression. "Lady, if you claim us ... we'd heard that—will you—" She took a deep breath. "This is my only surviving child. She has been a good slave of the high nobility since she turned four. She will serve you well if you will take her for your own." Her grip faltered then, as did her voice.

Kaoru started to speak, stopped, and took a breath. When she began again, she whispered in the tongue of the condemned man.

"Lady, you came to me for mercy, at the cost of your husband's life. I cannot save him, but he knew this before he came forward. But both you and your child I can help. By the law that condemns your husband, I can claim you."

_And if your husband had not come to me in the place of judgment, had he stopped me on the street or in procession, I could have saved you all._

She pushed the thought away, but it stung her deeply. He could not have known this; he could only know that she would preside, with their Lord, over the judgment, and that only free men could plead their cases.

As a free man he had come, for the first and last time.

She was determined to make him understand that his courage had meaning. More brusquely than intended, she pulled Raiden's wife forward, lapsing once again into the harsh tongue of Yamidaria. "Come."

This time the woman followed with no further comment. The child was reticent, but took her lead from her mother.

Kaoru strode through the opening in the crowd, her face set and grim. She walked the path that any supplicant might walk, her eyes searching for the guards and their precious prisoner. Already he was almost beyond hearing; what she had to say must be said quickly.

She stopped at the foot of the dais and turned to her two followers, releasing them. "Give me your arms."

The tone of her voice left no question as to which arm she referred to. Mother and child, in one movement that spoke of years of slavery, did as they were told, turning their sleeves back to reveal the scars beneath them. Kaoru gripped one arm in each hand and raised them both.

"Lord, I have found two slaves of the House Calvar in the common market. I claim them for my own." Her voice was that of a priestess: loud, clear, and too resonant to be missed.

Watching her from the dais, Kenshin frowned. "They are running from their house?"

"Their house is my house now. They will not run from me."

The frown increased slightly. "They bear the brand of Calvar."

"Yes. But they are not in Calvar holdings." She met the dark of his eyes with defiance. "And by your law, what Calvar cannot hold, they cannot keep. By your law, and the laws of your land, I claim the two for personal service."

Kenshin watched the tears that formed at the corners of Kaoru's eyes, watched the intensity of the corded light that flared from an invisible center to weave round each of the two slaves. His golden eyes flickered back to the guards that held the slave he had declared criminal.

_Calvar is a powerful house, little one. Can you never see the cost of your decision?_ His fear was not for himself.

But he knew she would accept any cost; the light told him that. And because of the light, he would accept any cost, for he knew that to refuse her this, when it was within the bounds of the written law, would be to lose her.

He raised one hand, gave one order, and the group escorting the slave halted, turned, and faced them.

"Very well, Lady Kaoru. I accept your claim. These two are yours; you may do as you see fit with them." Calvar he could deal with far more easily than Kaoru's pain.

She lowered the branded arms, feeling the tremors in the older one. Her eyes flitted outward to Raiden; she could still see him clearly, although he was almost out of the square.

Quietly she bowed, this one low and formal; it was the salute of Noria. He could not return the bow; he was anchored by guards on either side, but she saw the slight bob of his head. More she could not see; his face was too distant.

_He smiled_, she thought. _Please, Bright Lord. He smiled._

And then she was crying. She tried to keep her knees from touching the ground. Darkness enveloped her; cold arms circled her shoulders and waist.

_Oh, Sagara,_ she thought, unable to hold herself from her Lord's support. _Sagara, it's so dark. It is so dark._

* * *

><p>Kenshin is so cruel I know, but he loves her. Next chapter Kaoru will have to choose between her mates or Kenshin.<p> 


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

The carriage ride home was uneventful, or so Kaoru believed; she remembered little of it. She left her Lord at the front gate, shunning his offered arm as if it could brand her as her new slaves had been branded.

"Kaoru."

She shook her head from side to side without turning back.

"Kaoru!"

This stopped her, although it took a little while to realize why. His hands were upon her shoulders before it came to her that Kenshin had shouted. In all her months at Darhtia, she had never heard him do so; if he raised his voice at all, it was to ensure that feeble human ears received proper orders if they were too distant.

"Lady, why are you running?"

For a brief instant she leaned her back against his chest and felt the circle of his arms around her waist. _Was I running, Lord?_ It was an almost idiotic thought. She closed her eyes as his cheek brushed against hers. _I've not run from you for—_

She saw again Raiden's desperate, broken face in the darkness against her lids, heard again Sagara's gentle voice and wrapped it around his mission: _We must save the people of Yamidaria. I am here to destroy—_

With a harsh, sharp breath, she broke away.

"Kaoru?"

She wheeled around, her cheeks flushed with anger and guilt. "Damn you!"

He took a step backward at the unfamiliarity of the guttural words. A mild surprise flitted across his face—that and something else, both of which Kaoru ignored.

"Why wouldn't you spare his life? You know why he came to me! You could hear every word he spoke!" Her hands shot up to grip the folds of his robes.

Neutrally he said, "Lady, you know the laws of my land."

"I know that they're your laws; you made them, you can break them!"

"And yet you have said that my word, once given, should be binding."

It was true; Kaoru could not deny it. In the first few months of her stay, she had tried so hard to make him understand how the value of the given word, a Lord's promise, would not weaken his rule. His assertion did nothing to assuage her anger; instead, it heightened it.

"That was a question of honour—this is a question of justice and mercy! That man was doing the only thing he could to save his daughter from—"

"In my empire, slaves have no rights to the lives of their children."

"Yes!" She was close to tears. "In your God-cursed, damnable empire!" She threw her hands up, releasing him as if the contact burned her.

_We must save the people of Yamidaria. Kaoru, will you aid us? Kaoru, we're here to free you. What's wrong?_

_Stop it!_ She brought her hands up to her ears. _Just stop it! I know what you're saying!_

She felt a roiling darkness within her, as pain mixed with sorrow and fury.

Kenshin stood, completely still, in the silence in front of her.

"Kenshin, please . . ." The anger fell away from her voice. "Please, give me some reason . . ."

"Lady, do not—"

"Give me one reason. Please, if it's not too late, give me this one life. Let me know that you understand."

He caught her hands.

"Lady, why is this one life so important today? You must know that this happens—"

She tore her hands away as he opened the wound of her guilt. "I know what happens!" For so long, the knowledge of all the death and pain that she couldn't see or touch, had eroded the joy she felt when she was able to help.

"Kill him, then. Do what you want, Lord. You're a Servant of the Enemy; it's what you do best."

She turned and fled across the courtyard, sunlight twisting her shadow along the cool, perfect stone. This time he did not stop her. Her words lingered in the air, and around them, the cold of her absence. Once he started forward, stopping himself before he could take a step—and hated the lack of control the action showed, although none but himself was witness to it.

* * *

><p>Once she had entered the castle, she leaned against the gray of the walls of the north hall, her cheek cooling against the touch of stone. She longed to escape to her room, but there was one more thing to do: Claim her new slaves from the slavemaster Kadrin's tender mercies. She was exhausted; her hands and arms shook as she pressed them tightly against her body. She took a few moments to steel herself against the pain in the eyes that she walked to meet and brace herself against the gratitude that showed her more clearly than anything else the magnitude of the empire's crime.<p>

_The empire, Kaoru? Say rather, the First Servant. Say Kenshin._

Her fist struck the wall and slid downward. She cursed, knowing that the two would be waiting under the fear that she had proved false to her word. She could see the mother's arm wreathed tightly and protectively around the daughter's shoulders, see the way they would cringe upon sighting her, their eyes full of hope and the expectation of the loss of even that.

But even knowing how they must feel, she could not quite gather the strength to leave the silent hall. Bitterly she thought,_ Am I never to have a moment of life to call my own? Is there never a day when I can lay aside responsibility? Must I always have to be so damnably strong?_

The answer returned to her.

_Kaoru, you have changed._

And because acknowledgment of that silent voice demanded more strength than facing the slaves, she ran from it, her feet striking the floor. But it echoed within her, the way the worst of fears always does.

* * *

><p>Kadrin looked up as Lady Kaoru burst into the room. She could see the faint hint of surprise across his rounded features as the door slammed once against the wall. Taking a deep breath, she schooled her expression.<p>

"Kadrin, I've come to see to the two slaves that were brought in from—from the market."

"They are here, Lady." He rose from behind the desk he occupied, straightening his brown tunic as was his habit. "Wait but a moment, and they will be with you."

She nodded and he left.

True to his word, he was back in a moment, turning to say a few words that she couldn't quite catch to someone the door obscured. He entered the room, and behind him trailed the woman and child that Kaoru had seen earlier.

The woman looked up warily, and in her eyes were all the emotions that Kaoru had expected. The foreknowledge stopped her from flinching.

"Lady." The woman gave a low, cringing bow, one that her child was quick to copy. In the daughter's face, angular and thin, the mother's heritage was obvious. Kaoru watched their foreheads touch the ground at the same moment and shuddered.

She looked away from them to the only other person in the room and met the dark concern of his eyes.

_Kaoru, you've got to practice more control._ Her mouth folded awkwardly into the semblance of a smile.

"Lady?"

"Return to your duties, Kadrin. After I have spoken with these two, I shall send them to you for housing and general instruction."

He bowed. "I understand they are to serve you personally?"

She nodded again, this time more emphatically, feeling the woman's eyes upon her.

"Very well, Lady. Do you wish to use this room to conduct your meeting, or will you speak with them elsewhere?"

The question was pure formula; Kadrin knew well that Kaoru spoke with new slaves in her personal rooms. He gave her a soft smile in acknowledgment of this and was troubled when it slid off her face without changing it.

"I'll talk to them in my rooms." In a falsely bright voice, she added, "They'll have to know some of the geography of the palace, so they might as well begin now. That way they won't be in the same straits I was for my first year or so."

Kadrin smiled, forbearing to correct his lady. It had been perhaps two months before she could wander anywhere in the castle without getting lost.

Again his smile had no effect. "Lady, does something trouble you?"

Her eyes met his, and he took a step back.

"Come," Kaoru said softly, holding out one hand to the child. The girl gave her mother a nervous look, and her mother returned a forcible nod—both of which made Kaoru regret the openness of the gesture. Timidly the girl walked forward and placed one of her hands in Kaoru's. It was cold and shook visibly.

"Come, little one. Your mother follows us. There is nothing to fear."

She said it, knowing that she would not be believed, not yet_. But this is what I'm good at._ She sighed, taking little comfort from the truth of the thought.

Silent, they walked down the hall toward the steps that led to her rooms. There was a grim air about the walk, as if it were a funereal procession.

_Which it is._

She felt tears start and pushed them back in near fury. Why did anyone choose to love in the empire? Its cost was so plain and so unavoidable. She saw it in the face of the two that walked with her, a shadow that no amount of light would ease.

And then she caught the direction of the thought and turned her face away from the child at her side to allow a few meagre tears the escape they demanded.

_I've changed._

She could not see the way the girl's face tilted up at the sight of her or the curiosity flickering amid the pain and loss.

They walked in a silence made of bated breath and sorrow.

At length they came to the wing that was Kaoru's. She turned to her young charge and watched her as they passed the various tapestries that lent warmth to stone.

Although the child kept her head forward, Kaoru could see her eyes flicker from side to side, trying to take in the elements of the woven tales all at once. This was one of the reasons they had been put here, and as Kaoru's eyes joined the girl's, she drew on the second reason—memory. For along the walls was much of the history of Noria, from the death of Gallin of Meron, whom all lines could claim, to the founding of the seven lines. She looked at the face of Gallin, so painstakingly, mortally woven, and met his cloth-bound eyes. As always, the contrast of eyes and face surprised her and humbled her, for his features were distorted by extreme pain—one of his limbs was caught in the process of burning away—but his eyes were full of a deep and endless peace.

_Did the women who wove your countenance truly capture you so well, or do I imagine you as clearly as the line knows you existed?_

He had no answers; at least the lifelike quality did not give him speech, although she often expected it.

She turned to the child, and the child's glance darted almost guiltily away. She did the only thing she could; she kept walking. The girl relaxed.

Yet again Kaoru stopped, toward the end of the hall. And once more, eyes captured her—but this time, they were no mortal eyes.

_Lady._

Kaoru resisted the urge to bow, although she normally did so when unaccompanied. Her free hand went up and stopped just short of the flat, silken face.

Lady Kamiya. A great woman whom Kaoru never met. The Lady looked outward, through her lost granddaughter, and beyond the tapestries that hid the walls on the other side. She was robed in the simplest of white, a gown unadorned by even the circle that symbolized the continuity and wholeness of the line. Her arms fell out to either side upon the knees of the legs crossed beneath her.

And in her palm, a cut that did not bleed lay bare, turned upward to catch a beam of sunlight.

She did not look mortal.

_What do you see, Lady? What vision haunts you?_

Again no answer. Kaoru expected none, but were this pale visage to speak, she would not be surprised.

_Lady why am I here?_ She searched the face, as she'd done countless times, for some hint of sorrow, anger, or pain; for some hint of triumph, defeat, or planning. But the Lady's eyes touched something that her face could never express.

Nor her words—at least not well. Kaoru sighed once, refusing to give in to the anger that lay beneath the surface of the thought. _I am still here, Lady. Some call me Noria's hope. Am I strong enough to live up to their expectations?_

She turned and stumbled slightly, then blushed, remembering that her hand was still anchored to a young child.

"Sorry," she said softly. "I, too, find the tapestries distracting. Come, my rooms are beyond the doors."

So saying, she walked up to the set of double doors, freed her hand momentarily, and opened them. She tried not to notice the child shrinking into her mother.

The mother whispered something softly—something Kenshin would have heard from half a hall away—and the child walked quickly forward, following Kaoru's shadow into a large sitting room.

"Come in." Kaoru spoke to the mother. The mother followed without hesitation, eyes darting side to side to see if all was safe, although she knew she could do nothing about it if it were not.

"Please, take a seat, both of you."

A suspicious glance at Kaoru in no way changed the instinctive obedience that followed the request.

Blithely Kaoru continued as if unaware of the tension of her two spectators. "These rooms will be a part of your duties. They're to be cleaned when I leave them in the morning; I'll provide a schedule for you if Kadrin's lost his, which is Likely."

She waited, and after a moment the woman nodded.

"If you would prefer it, you and your daughter may work together in the tasks that are given to you when you are not tending to me; I'll also speak to Kadrin about this."

The child looked curiously at her mother.

Kaoru smiled softly and nodded. When the child made no move, she said, "Go ahead, child. You want to ask your mother a question; feel free to do so."

The girl blushed and her mother whitened.

"It's all right. No question she could ask would give offense, not here."

Still the child remained where she sat.

"Whisper, if you have to. I shan't mind. Well, go on. Consider it an order."

At this, the girl inched toward her mother. Her mother's trembling arm shot out around the girl's shoulder, drawing her closer. The girl whispered something and the woman's brow furrowed. Quietly she shook her head.

Again Kaoru smiled. "Yes," she said softly, catching the girl's attention. "Kadrin is a slave."

She could feel the two sets of eyes upon her as she continued. "He is also slavemaster. He was given the position because he knows—better than the low-born free—what a slave must suffer at the hands of the wrong man or woman. It is up to him to watch his charges carefully."

The woman looked confused, and Kaoru sent out a wave of sympathy, not knowing if it would reach her.

"If you have any difficulties with the visiting dignitaries—" This said with obvious distaste. "—you are to tell Kadrin; he will come immediately to me. I will speak with the people involved to ensure that they understand the rules of this palace."

Neither spoke.

"I think that's about it. I've taken the liberty of having some food sent up to you; it should be here soon."

"Here, mistress?"

Kaoru smiled at the shock in the woman's voice. At least she's speaking. "Here. And to be truthful, I didn't exactly arrange the food, Kadrin did. He knows my routines well enough to anticipate me—and he knows I live in terror of Korten." She laughed. "Korten's the head of the kitchen."

The child leaned over to her mother again.

"Child, you can ask me the question, and ask it without fear. I won't hurt you here; no one will."

The mother met Kaoru's eyes, locked on them, and nodded without looking away.

For the first time, Kaoru heard the girl's voice. It was deeper than she would have expected, and she revised the estimate of the girl's age up by a couple of years. It was also smooth, almost melodious. Without nervous cracks—evident between almost each syllable—the child's voice would have been beautiful.

"Is the head of the kitchen a slave?"

"Yes, child."

The girl took a deep breath and straightened out. Without looking at her mother, she said, "Then why do you call him by name?"

"Because to me he has one. He is my . . . slave. If I choose to name him, that is only my concern now. In doing so, child, I break no laws." Her voice broke on the last word.

The girl was silent a few moments. She bent her head, and when it came up again, her eyes were filmed.

"No slave has a name."

"Not outside of this palace."

"My father—"

The mother hissed out a one-word warning, and the child subsided, with difficulty.

Kaoru stood and crossed the distance between them too quickly to be a menace. When she reached the girl, she knelt in front of her. "Little one, I do all that I can—" She wavered. "—all that I'm capable of." She heard her own voice crack, but continued. "In the palace, by right of rank, I am given the chance to let my laws govern in some small way. But outside of it—"

The woman's eyes widened in recognition and surprise as she realized what Kaoru was asking for. She shook her head in bewilderment, and the movement cleared her mind. For the first time she saw Kaoru as one lone woman, robed in gray with the symbol of a circle glimmering in the fading light.

"Mistress."

Kaoru turned her head without rising.

The woman held out a hand, and without hesitation Kaoru accepted it as if it were an anchor. "My name is Mattie. My daughter is Rasel."

The words fell into silence, but the expression on Kaoru's face gave the woman everything she needed.

"Thank you, Mattie."

Rasel turned to look at her mother as if she had gone insane. Both women met her gaze without speaking.

"I think it's all right, Rasel." Her mother's arms reached out in a half circle, but the girl pulled away.

"How can it be all right? This is the crime my father died for!" She leaped up.

"Rasel—"

She gave a hysterical laugh that fell abruptly into sobbing. She covered her face, huddling downward for a few seconds. As Kaoru approached, the girl's face shot outward like a bolt.

"Why didn't you save him? Why didn't you tell him it was all right to speak his name?"

"I tried, Rasel."

But she was weeping again, not expecting an answer.

Kaoru turned to face Rasel's mother, tightening her grip on the woman's hand to reassure her. Or to be reassured?

"Mistress, he knew what he was doing."

Kaoru nodded mutely.

"We have what—" Her voice cracked, and she shut her eyes. "—what we came for."

"For how long, Mattie?"

"For now. That's all we can ask."

_Yes, here in Rennath, that is all you can ask for._

Seeing the woman's muted pain, Kaoru cursed herself bitterly. Her nails bit into the palm of her free hand as she struggled with her thoughts.

_We can change this. We can—maybe—bring it all down. If he dies. . ._

Perhaps the empire could be changed, if she could make the right choice, if she was willing to help Sagara and her brethren of Noria. The image of Kenshin, seated like ebony upon the throne of judgment, loomed above her. Her imagination needed to add no distortion to the picture: There he sat, and with few words condemned an innocent man to death for the crime of loving his child too dearly in an empire where love exacted so high a price.

But the man's death bought his child's life.

Yes, but if not for Yamidaria, his death would not have been required—_if not for Kenshin._

_He changes. In several months he has changed much._

_And is the price in innocent life worth the hope of change? Can you make that choice and condemn God alone knows how many people?_

_I do not know._

She was too tired to cry; her eyes remained dry even as she shut them. There at the heart of her pain was the indecision of hope.

_You have changed, Kaoru._

_We all change._

She started to stand, and Mattie clutched almost blindly at her hand. Kaoru returned the pressure and resumed her kneeling position on the floor. What good would pacing do? It couldn't change the course her thoughts had chosen.

_I feared to change too much._

_Ah, Sagara, Okita, I fear what your coming foretells._

She bent her head, touching the older woman's lap with the cold white of her forehead. Almost absently, the older woman responded to the need that Kaoru unwittingly projected; her hands, soft for all they were callused, began to stroke the auburn head.

"I'm sorry," Kaoru murmured, as Mattie drew her gently into her lap. "I'm so sorry."

"I know, child," Mattie answered, half in amazement that she could know any pity for this lady, this child. For indeed she was little more than a child. "I know."

Then Kaoru heard Rasel's sobs blend with the ones she kept locked between her lips and the lap of a woman who had just lost her husband.

There was a knock at the door. It was light and hesitant, enough so that Kaoru did not hear it at first. Rasel, however, displaying years of rigorous training, fell immediately silent. Hearing this, Kaoru raised her head.

"Someone's at the door."

Nodding, Kaoru drew herself up to her full height. She was embarrassed and ashamed of her need to take comfort from a woman who deserved only to receive it.

"I'll get it," she said lamely, to no one in particular. Her feet dragged across the carpet as she approached the door. She took a deep breath, then another, and her hand gripped the doorknob for support.

"Who's there?"

The knock came again, no louder than before.

"Who is it?"

"Lady."

She tensed, realizing just how much she did not want to see him, especially not now, with Ranin's wife and child as witness. "Lord, I do not feel up to visitors at the moment."

There was a pause, then he spoke again. "Yet I hear, Kaoru, that you have two."

She felt a small surge of anger, knowing the tone of his voice quite well. "Yes."

She still made no move to open the door, knowing that he would not enter without her leave.

"Lady—" The word was curt. "—I believe a third 'guest' will not harm you. Please allow me to enter."

She turned to look helplessly at Rasel and Mattie; both of them watched her with fear across their closed faces. They had composed themselves as they were able, and Kaoru was guiltily aware that she looked worse than either of them.

"Very well, Lord. You may enter."

"Thank you, Lady."

She felt the doorknob turn and released it, stepping away.

A man stepped into the room; his dark clothing torn and dirty, his hair red-tinted and dishevelled.

Kaoru's jaw dropped, and behind her two women drew breath to cut the silence so sharply it nearly bled.

"Mistress?"

"Ranin." One word, half-spoken, half-whispered. The man flinched slightly. Unconsciously she reached out to touch the bruises on his face. He bore the touch as she robbed him of his pain.

"Mistress, I am commanded to report to you."

She tried to speak, but words would not come.

"Is there anything you require of me?"

She shook her head, meeting his eyes. There she saw a question too fierce to be expressed verbally. Almost giddily she stepped aside, her arm flying in a wide arc to indicate Mattie and Rasel. He saw them, his expression mirroring the relief of his discovery more eloquently than words could.

Mattie stared at the man who was her husband. Kaoru could see the tension that took her, although she sat perfectly still. Rasel, although younger, showed all of her mother's control—except for the eyes, which were round with hope.

"Please, enter."

Ranin did so. He walked awkwardly, as if another pulled the strings that moved his legs.

Kaoru gave him a small smile—one that could not express all that she suddenly felt. "Go on, that's an order."

He looked at her then, his face completely open.

"Go."

Nodding, wordless, he walked to the couch that held the two people he loved in all his world. Rasel contained herself only until he was a foot away, then sprang up, arms flying out, face already touching the breadth of his chest. "Father!"

The word was muffled against the torn coarseness of his tunic. His own arms came out in response, and then he was holding the daughter that he had almost died for.

Mattie's eyes left her husband and child for a moment, to meet Kaoru's. There was an odd wonder in her expression. Again Kaoru smiled, but this time her lips trembled and she looked away to give the three the privacy that they deserved; their reunion, unseen and unhoped for, was not a thing for "noble" eyes to witness.

In the hall outside the door was the First Servant. He looked colder, grimmer than Kaoru remembered. He remained still as Kaoru walked out of the room.

"Kenshin."

"Lady."

She walked to him then, closing the door to her room. Her hands reached up to touch the ice of his face, and he flinched at the contact, but did not pull away. His eyes, as he watched her, were neutral.

She started to speak, fell silent, and felt herself thaw. The ache of the afternoon vanished as she thought of Ranin's reunion with his family. Were it not for Kenshin's dark countenance, she would have smiled openly. But he was grim. "Why?

In answer, he reached down and pulled her into his arms, pressing his mouth firmly on hers. There was nothing gentle about the motion, but Kaoru responded softly, resting her arms around his waist. She could sense the anger that he held in check, and knew who it was aimed at and why.

"Thank you, darkling. Thank you." She said against his mouth before she buried her face against his chest and after a few moments felt the weight of his chin against the top of her hair.

And as her pain diminished, he knew again the warmth of her light and he relaxed. She held him on all levels, bands of her brilliance touching his face, his arms, and his chest; a smile against his shoulder and with it the warmth of tears that eased her heart.

_Ah, Kaoru, the light._ His hands came up of their own accord, to smooth her unruly hair. For the moment, he felt at peace, and the moment was enough.

It came at too high a price, but he paid it and knew in the future that he would pay it again—not easily, and only barely willingly.

_For you, Kaoru_. His arms tightened. He heard the clear sound of laughter and tears that came from behind her closed door, the rustle of clothing and the minute movements of air that spoke of an embrace given and one returned. He wondered, for a moment, if her slaves felt as he did in the circle of Kaoru's arm.

Then the moment passed. _What does it matter if they feel thus?_

And the answer came quickly. _It matters to his Kaoru. It brings her peace._

He felt he would never understand it, and as her face rose from the cushion of his shoulder and he met the brilliant blue of her eyes, he thought it did not matter.

* * *

><p>Oh, hells. Kaoru grabbed at the gray silk gown she had chosen for the evening meal. When did the sun go down? With quick, precise movements she tossed off her robe and stepped awkwardly into the dress. It was simple compared to the current court styles of Darthia, but it was still more difficult to negotiate than the simple robes she wore during the tasks of the day. She had half the buttons done when she cursed softly, stepped out of the dress, and went in search of her undergarments. Everything in Darthia was complicated.<p>

She looked out at the muted light that struggled through her curtains.

_Why didn't I hear the dinner bells? _For she was certain they had chimed. It wasn't the first time she'd missed the call, and it certainly wouldn't be the last. _Why on Earth did I tell Kadrin to keep the servants from coming to get me?_ It was something she only wondered when she was late. She cursed again, knotting one of the ties of the simple cotton undershift.

_If Kenshin smirks at me, I'll kill him myself._

She started to smile, then her face froze.

In the half-opened crack of cloth at the balcony a familiar face flickered in the dimming light.

Okita

She caught a glimpse of a nervous smile, and then it was gone. Not bothering with the rest of her clothing, she rushed to the window and flung the curtains back, but he was nowhere in sight. She walked out, not particularly caring who would see her; a few people walked casually in all directions beneath her searching gaze—but none of them was familiar.

She returned to her room and continued to dress, but more slowly this time. She listened for any unusual sound, but the room was quiet.

The words of the Servant of the Bright Lord returned to her. If Okita had been at her balcony, she was certain he was within the palace. And he was counting on her, as he had done any number of times when they were serving under Abikaro.

With quiet deliberation she fastened the buttons that remained undone and then headed toward the hall. Once she stopped, shook herself, and resumed walking; her face was set and grim.

_Remember the place of judgment, Kaoru._

She walked down the hall, her eyes again falling on the tapestries that lined it. She met the Lady Kamiya, lost in the depth of a trance too difficult for a mortal mind to undertake, and she dropped to her knees in front of her.

_Lady, please, please guide me._

No response.

_Lady, he spared the life of Ranin, because he knew what it meant to me. Might he not, in time, do the same for another?_

Again no answer. She almost regretted Kenshin's change of heart. But she thought of Mattie and Rasel, and the regret drifted. What did it matter if her decision had been made, once again, so difficult? They were happy; they had each other.

_Lady, I will do as I am able. Please . . ._

She stood and walked quickly down the hall.

She shook herself again as she reached the stairs. There would be people below, and she would have to face them as brightly as ever.

* * *

><p>Come on, Kaoru. They're waiting for you. You're late, as usual. Her feet took the steps automatically, bringing the main hall closer.<p>

"Ah, Lady Kaoru."

She turned slowly at the sound of the voice, the hair on the nape of her neck sparking outward. With a patently false smile, she greeted the high priest. He had two rooms in the palace, although he used them infrequently. Tetsuma, for some reason, was one of the few that Kenshin could tolerate.

"Tetsuma."

He returned her smile, failing to notice that she had not used his title. She never used it; he never noticed; it was a game they both played that each heartily despised, although for different reasons.

"I am gratified to note that I am not the only diner to be somewhat tardy. If it would not be too much trouble, I would be pleased to arrive with you." He offered her his arm; she ignored it. Another step in their silent fencing. Nor was he ruffled by her refusal—although that had not been the case when he had first accepted the rank and "responsibility" of his office.

"As you wish." She walked, looking straight ahead.

He fell into step naturally.

"I heard that there was some sort of difficulty in the market today."

She pointedly ignored his "idle" chatter, quickening her walk_. Not that it's going to inconvenience him, _she thought. He was a full foot taller than she, and she was grateful for the fact that she had never once been forced to keep pace with him.

"Nevertheless, the word I received was that the difficulty in the market had been suitably dealt with."

Kaoru clamped her teeth down. She knew what Tetsuma was doing. He had done all in his power, which was considerable, to assure that the place of judgment was not created. Failing that, he used one of her own famous gambits. He refused to notice the change.

"Come, Lady Kaoru." Ironic inflection coloured every word. "You cannot hope to save every slave in Darthia. It does not befit your station." He was well pleased; to his mind the First Servant gave far too much to this, a ranking member of their greatest enemy. To order the death of a man she saw fit to plead for—yes, Tetsuma was satisfied. Perhaps there was hope for her death yet. But he remembered the cost of the last "hope," and he was not fool enough to undertake its realization.

Kaoru was suddenly angry; of all nights to play at useless confrontations with the high priest, this one was least welcome. She let a hint of satisfaction show through her face as she responded. "Not every slave, Tetsuma. But I did manage to save that one. Ranin is now in my personal service, or didn't your informants tell you that?"

When he did not reply immediately, she pressed the point home. "And yes, I do intend to save every slave in Darthia, if it takes me all my life."

"I see."

His voice was cold and neutral. Kaoru gave him a sidelong glance, already regretting the words.

_He didn't know, and not only did I inform him of the fact that __Kenshin__ went against his word to spare Ranin, but I rubbed his face in it._ She felt the juxtaposition of regret and satisfaction. Regret won.

_Kenshin__, my position here is still not as strong as you would like it. Must I always make it worse?_

Still, at least he's stopped talking.

It was true, but it didn't make her feel better; Tetsuma silent was Tetsuma plotting, and although he was too canny to act directly against the First Servant of his God, he was still not a man to antagonize. She knew well that he considered her a weakness, and a dangerous one—the fact that Ranin was still alive proved it yet again.

_Master,_ he thought, _this __Noranen __woman will poison you if she is not ... removed. I have done all I can to lessen her influence, but it has proved useless. Perhaps it is time . . ._

He shuddered. Going against the First Servant's orders usually left a man a lifespan that could be measured in seconds. Yet he could not just stand idly by to watch the destruction of the Church at the hands of its enemy—and he was certain as to what this woman child intended; she had never been anything less than clear.

He shook his head to clear it and walked a little more quickly. It still amazed him that one with such power could possess so little understanding of the uses to which it should be put.

"Lady," he said, and she turned. "I believe we must walk more quickly. The Lord has never liked to be kept waiting."

_Except by you._


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

The dining hall was unlike any other room in the palace; although the ceilings were high, the arches were smooth and clean; no beams cut across them, and no frescoes coloured them. The doors were rectangular, not peaked, and were of simple wood. Thus had Kaoru described the hall of her home; Kenshin had not managed to capture the longing her voice had given to detail, but was moderately pleased with the rest.

He looked up as Kaoru and Tetsuma entered. He smiled almost maliciously at her as his eyes flickered over the high priest, and she rolled her eyes in response. Tetsuma missed none of this, and his face grew somewhat more red, but he held his peace; it was one of the reasons he had become high priest, and he never forgot it.

"It pleases me to see that you could be spared from your duties in order to join me." Kenshin's voice indicated no such pleasure.

The high priest gave a low bow.

"Your pardon, Lord. I was detained."

"By whom?"

Rising, Tetsuma shrugged and took a seat. "It is a minor problem, Lord, unworthy of your time or attention."

"Most problems with the Church are," the First agreed, "but few cause you to be late."

Tetsuma nodded again, ill at ease. "Yes, Lord. But it is not a problem with the Church precisely; rather, with the Swords. Gerdonel and Lampret are struggling for position, and the division between their associated units is causing . . . unrest."

"I see. But surely both are under the command of—let me think—"

"Karver and Morden, Lord." Tetsuma inserted the names, well aware that his Lord knew who they were.

"Perhaps I shall have to speak with them."

The black robes he wore highlighted the sudden white of Tetsuma's long face. "Lord, you have trusted me with the keeping of the Church; I have already spoken to both men, and at length. I assure you that they will cause you no trouble."

"I see." With those two words of dismissal, Kenshin turned to regard Kaoru. Tetsuma let himself relax slightly. Although he would never admit it, there were times when the presence of the Noranen was a boon, and this was one of the few. He remembered clearly the events that had occurred a year past—he had narrowly avoided being caught up in the uprising of the Church's upper hierarchy. The purge that had followed had left numbers sparse, and Tetsuma wished strongly to avoid any further pruning.

"Lady," Kenshin was saying, "you cannot tell me that after the events of the afternoon, you—"

"I was tired, Kenshin. I'm sorry I'm late, I just didn't hear—"

"So you have said." He waved an arm. "But please, do not let me keep you standing if you feel so. Take your place." He smiled softly, then clapped his hands twice.

Kaoru had time to find her seat before the serving slaves entered the dining room.

They began to serve her first, and she moved slightly to give them more room. The young boy who held the first tray smiled shyly at her. She returned his smile, but said nothing, knowing how intensely Kenshin disliked it.

They ate in silence. Kaoru was aware, as always, of her Lord's gaze and met it firmly, almost warmly—even though Tetsuma also watched.

_Master,_ he thought, appetite lost,_ can you not see how she weakens you?_ His fork skidded across his plate, and he corrected his shaking hand with some chagrin. True the child looked pretty today with her silky raven hair loose and swept to one side and a crimson dress that hugged her slim figure deliciously. The First's fiery eyes scarcely left her but for Tetsuma those things did not matter.

Because he avoided girl's eyes, he missed the change in them. Not so Kenshin, who paused in midsentence when her head moved upward as if pulled. "Lady?"

Her eyes grew unfocused as they pondered something—perhaps some memory—beyond the table. For a moment he thought the clarity of her blue eyes grew opaque. Her lips clamped shut, and the fingers that held cutlery let them drop noisily to table and floor.

From somewhere, the smell of a familiar breeze touched Kaoru, and she knew that this was the moment. Her blood rushed outward to cheek and fingertip, called by the force of kinship. _No. Not now!_ But it was now, more immediate than she could have foreseen.

"Kaoru?"

She heard his voice as if by habit, but it was distant and distorted when it reached her ears. She swung around to gaze at him—slowly, so slowly twisting the white of her neck, as if the movement itself could break her.

And she saw him more clearly and more truly than normal sight permitted. Shrouded in shadow, the velvet folds of darkness wreathing around him, his golden eyes glowing, he sat at the head of the table. She could not see his expression clearly; but the concern had been clear in his voice. His mouth began to move, but the words his lips formed were lost to time—and to the sight of his teeth, the other gleaming light that remained within him. She saw them clearly and wondered, almost ludicrously, how it was that they had never drawn blood when she had kissed lips.

Turning again, this time quickly and effortlessly, she saw the glimmer in the air, the beauty that danced in little sparks through the hall. But this time it was larger, somehow complete in its pattern. She knew that Sagara would appear—but not alone, not this time.

She knew that God's power was dimmed and the Gifting invoked. Everything seemed to happen so slowly; she thought that Kenshin would notice, by now, the approach of his doom. But he did not; his face was still turned toward her among the shadows, although she could only catch it from the corner of her eye.

Blood-spell. She knew it for truth; even the priest –Tetsuma- moved slowly and sluggishly in her sight. Only Sagara and those of Noria would have the speed necessary to do what they had come to do.

_And I_, she thought bitterly, _am of Noria_. The blood chooses its course.

But as she thought it, she knew it to be wrong. The choice, damned and damnable, was still her own. The blood flowed faster through her veins. She stood, turning to her Lord, and caught the start of an expression of astonishment curve around his lips.

_Nightwalker._ She took a step forward, then another, knowing that he could not yet react to it. She read his face, harshly and honestly; reviewed her life in Darthia ruthlessly. All of the details crept back, all of the lost lives, the people she had not been permitted to save, and the screams that had kept her awake for her first few weeks in the palace—screams that no longer sounded here.

_Servant of Yamidaria_. The name held venom, a poison that was only now being flushed away by the touch, by the grace, of Sagara of Noria.

Breathing in once, deeply, she caught the taste of the orvas flowers along her tongue, washing away the stain of the city and the curse of the empire. She could almost see the her village, standing in storm and sunshine as it had always stood, weathering the passage of season and human kingdom alike.

She let the feeling overwhelm her, and a laugh broke through her clamped jaw; a laughter that told her, and any who would hear it, that she was truly alive and still very much Kaoru of her line.

"Kaoru!"

Wheeling, arms outstretched, she caught the flicker of hope that danced across the face of Okita. And his face was all light, shining in the circle of Sagara's power; dear to her, more so than any other, because it was a light that grew with her since the death of her father. She could see, beneath his glow, the tattered rags that passed as slave garments and, letting her sight dance across the others—three—could see a similar garb.

Only Sagara, standing in their center, looked as he had always looked; clothed all in white, the youthful glint of skin and dark hair a song of his birth at the dawn of time. He stepped forward quickly, his brow creasing.

"Kaoru, well met."

She bowed to him then, sweeping the crimson of her skirt to one side.

He left the Noranen behind, covering the distance from the corner of the room to the table almost too quickly for Kaoru to perceive.

Okita and Shura also broke, running visibly toward the high priest. The others, Carla and Rein, turned their backs upon her, to face the doors of the room. They were nervous, she could see it—and feel it at the base of her tingling spine.

Hurry, she thought, turning again for sight of Sagara.

Sagara stood in front of Kenshin.

_Kenshin._

She could see his arms, moving slowly against the grip of time, and the golden flash of his eyes. His mouth struggled with something—some word, some spell of power—as the seat fell away from beneath him, resisting the pull of gravity and losing to it inch by inch.

His eyes unexpectedly found hers, and even though his movement was slowed in her vision, she saw the quick fan of shock spread and ripple outward across his face—knew that it would cost him time he didn't have as he evaluated the situation.

Sagara's arms crossed his chest on their tangled upward sweep and a beam of light broke forth from him. His brow creased slightly as the white of it pierced the red cleanly and absolutely.

Kaoru heard the beginning of a scream take shape from the throat of her captor, her lover..her husband. It was cut short before it could fully blossom, but that—that was his way. No pain in the face of the enemy, even if that pain gave no satisfaction. She understood it well.

Her hands curled into little fists as he fell—again slowly, agonizingly so—on one knee. The red around him still pulsed frantically, but it was weakening. Sagara was doing his work, and well.

She felt a sharp pain and looked down to her hands. Little drops of blood lingered on her fingernails. She looked away again, to see Okita, arms raised, begin his attack upon the Tetsuma.

_I should leave._

She thought it, senselessly, as her legs locked her in place. So she waited, not knowing what it was that she waited for until it came, drawn out, covering more of her than either she or her Lord could have expected.

He called her name.

He called her name just once, into the odd silence of the battle zone. But once was enough.

And she turned to him again, caught his eyes, and held them as if to provide an anchor for him before she realized fully what she was doing. She saw him—as she had seen him daily, as she had seen him this afternoon—her chosen, her bond-mate, nightwalker, Servant, and darkling. She felt the coolness that lingered over cheek and brow in the morning, felt the concern that had been his first thought when Sagara and the warriors of Noria were launching their assault.

It hurt her, more than walking through red-fire, for it was a darker and deeper pain.

"Kaoru, don't!"

But she was already running the short distance between herself and Sagara—arms outstretched as if to embrace him. There was no time for tears, no leisure for anything but automatic action, as her hands gripped Sagara's tightly, wrenching them into a direction that would, for a second, free Kenshin.

Nor was she prepared for Sagara's reaction. His hands shuddered once, twice in her grip, but he made no move to pull free.

"Kaoru."

It was the first time he had spoken aloud to her, and she knew what it meant; he was tired, his power was failing. _Yes,_ she thought uneasily, _that's what it must be._

Then he gently, but firmly disengaged her hand. "It is over. Rest."

She turned then, wildly, to see Kenshin standing, glowing brightly with the ugliest of light haloing his body.

"This the Lady Kamiya saw." Bending, Sagara kissed her forehead. "And I am ready. Stand aside, little one."

"No." She turned and met Kenshin's eyes. "Please, please no."

"Kaoru." He bowed once, no hint of his torment marring the gesture. "Thank you, Lady. Now we will meet on equal ground."

Sagara bowed, also. "Not equal, First of Yamidaria. But come, I have done what I can to defy the Lady Kamiya's fate; I will defy it no longer." The saddest of smiles touched his lips, and he turned to look at Kaoru.

Tetsuma's loud cry filled the hall, robbing Sagara's last words of sound. But Kaoru saw his lips move, saw a tremor of something shudder through his eyes. And when he turned to face his enemy, he was Servant of Noria once more, with all the majesty, and all the power.

Kenshin laughed once. "You were a fool to come here; this is the seat of my strength."

"I was a fool, yes," Sagara replied, mildly. He raised his arms high, and the light that flooded the room blinded Kaoru.

She cried out, "Kenshin! Don't!" knowing that she would hear nothing in return. _Nothing?_ She choked as the sound of wood striking wall rang through the room, followed by the scrape of metal against metal, and the loud, dissonant clang of armour. She heard the scuffling of feet and bodies as she tried to clear her eyes.

"Kaoru, why? why?" The agonized question was followed by a grunt and a silence punctuated by heaving breath.

When her eyes cleared, she was still in the hall.

"Lady."

She could not face him.

"Lady." His arm touched her shoulders, drawing her close. "Thank you."

Avoiding his eyes, she turned to see the still form of Sagara upon the floor. Dodging Kenshin, she darted toward it and knelt.

His hand, ivory and pale, was motionless in hers, limp, all of the life he had carried into the hall vanquished.

_Sagara, please—understand me._

He had; she knew it. She drew the body closer, wondering why it still existed in the mortal realm.

_Bright Lord, God, forgive me. I am Kaoru of Noria no longer_. And she wept, salt tears warming the chill of her face. Beyond, the voice of her Lord broke through.

"Captain, take them to the north wing. Confine them until I—"

She stood, leaving Sagara on the floor. "Kenshin."

He turned to her as the guards began to carry out his orders, and beyond his back she could see that Rein was bleeding profusely. The other three were unscathed—physically. She tried to capture Okita's gaze and failed; he turned his face away without speaking another word.

"Lady?"

"Please, Kenshin, please let them go."

He grew remote, his eyes golden in a striking contrast to his crimson hair. "They are my enemies, Lady. There is an understanding in this. They have failed; they know the price."

"They wouldn't have failed if I had not—not—" _betrayed them_. But the enormity of the words stuck in her throat, refusing her the relief of releasing them. "Please, Lord. I saved your life. Please grant me this one thing. I won't ask for anything else."

He caught her trembling chin in his fingers. "Kaoru, I—"

"You'd be dead if I hadn't interfered!"

"I am not alive now."

Dropping to her knees, she caught the hand beneath her chin and grasped it so tightly that the blood ran out of her fingers. Bowing her head, she said, "First Servant of—of Yamidaria. I ask you, beg you if I must, for their lives. Please."

He studied her for a while as the hall emptied, saw the tears upon her cheeks, etching themselves into her countenance as if they were acid. At length he knelt in front of her, pulling her into his arms.

"Kaoru, Kaoru, I understand." He kissed the top of her head. "You ask me to lessen the price you have paid tonight." His hands ran through her hair, changing shape and colour as they did so, until he stood before her, once again Lord of Darhtia—as close to human as a Servant could become. "Lady, why did you choose as you did?"

She shook her head, wordless, and he let the question fade, knowing the answer, marvelling at it.

"I will not earn your hatred this night, Kaoru. Rise. Return to your rooms. The Noranen are free to go; they have lost the strongest of their number; they have lost the Second of Noria."

She trembled, but this time brought her face up. Tears still fell, and her face was no less troubled, but he could see a glimmer of light in her eyes.

Weakly, her arms came up and around him.

"Thank you. Thank you, Kenshin."

She tried to stand, and he caught her as her knees gave.

"It is I who should thank you, Kaoru. Come." He lifted her. "I will take you to your rooms; you may rest there. In the morning, all shall be as it was."

He carried her out of the hall, cradling her gently as she curled against his chest. Together they made their way to the north wing of the palace and from there to Kaoru's rooms.

Kaoru hugged him tightly; her breath came shallowly and evenly as the First Servant traversed the final hallway that she'd covered so carefully with her tapestries. He had seen them many times and had no need to pause to re-examine detail; it was all in his memory, and with a thought he could summon it up. Given a night he could sit in his chambers, counting each individual thread and each careless flaw.

Nonetheless he stopped at the end, to gaze fully at the loom-drawn Lady Kamiya.

_Lady._ He did not bow, but would have had he not carried Kaoru. _You hid her from me eighteen years ago, at the cost of your life. Why? Had you not, I would have killed her...and I would have died today. _

_I do not know if you had foreseen this and sent the Noranen, or the Second of Noria, but I am grateful for both. I shall use them well._ He tightened his grip on Kaoru, a wordless statement.

_I shall remember your gift to me._

He nodded once, crisply, and then carried Kaoru to her bedroom. She stirred once, and he cradled her until she was again still. Then he pushed her covers back and laid her carefully in her bed, arranging the pillows beneath the spread of her raven hair.

His lips brushed her forehead once.

Then he raised his arms, passing them three times over her still form. His eyes glinted red in the darkened room.

_Sleep, Kaoru. Sleep until dawn._ He spoke a few words, each one carefully chosen to reverberate across her. _It is done._

Bending down, he kissed her again, lightly on either eyelid. Then he stood and walked briskly out of the room, closing and locking her door behind him.

He walked quickly down to Kadrin's quarters and rapped on the door. Kadrin emerged, paling slightly at the sight of his Lord; it was rare for him to make a personal appearance.

"Lord." He bowed, dropping to his knees.

"The lady sleeps. She has had a troubled evening. Post two of the slaves near her quarters and make sure that she is not disturbed under any circumstance.

"And send someone for the high priest. Tell him he is to meet me in my chambers immediately."

"Yes, Lord."

Kenshin held the man's eyes for a minute, then nodded curtly. Kadrin rose from the floor and scrambled awkwardly—but quickly—down the long hall. The First Servant was already gone.

Saito's words echoed in his memory. _"You might choose to bind her to you."_

* * *

><p>Tetsuma opened the door to his master's chambers and walked quickly in.<p>

"You are here."

"Master." Tetsuma gave a low bow.

"I require your assistance for the evening." He rose, almost impatiently. "We must move quickly; the work will be long and it cannot, under any circumstance, outlast the darkness."

Tetsuma nodded, rising.

Kenshin was already at the door. "Quickly, High Priest." He had no need to make a threat; Tetsuma understood his position too well.

"Where do we go, master?"

"To my temple."

A look of surprise, followed by satisfaction, swept across the high priest's face. "Will we need a congregation?"

"No."

Tetsuma shrugged. Not a full ceremony then—but it didn't matter. The First Servant, for the first time in over three years, was willing to perform blood rites.

"Is there anything that you require?"

"The blade."

"Done."

"And the Noranen. Bring also the body of the Second of Noria. Both are necessary."

A slow smile spread across Tetsuma's face.

"Immediately, master." He bowed again, genuinely. "I shall meet you at the temple with the things you have requested."

Kenshin nodded absently.

_You trusted me, Kaoru. And why should you not? In the past four years I have never broken my word to you._

He felt uneasy, and buried the feeling beneath a sharp and sweet elation.

_Just this once, Kaoru, I must do so. Then you, too, will be free of the dictates of time. As I am._

_I will never lose you to so impersonal an enemy._

_You will be an immortal._

He opened the door and began his journey to the temple. And his eyes were deep and golden, a dark amber that showed no light, nor allowed any to pass.

* * *

><p>Kenshin looked about his small personal temple, noting the marks that the passage of time had left upon it. Here, a cobweb, hiding perhaps a spider or two, there, dust in an even, undisturbed blanket upon the unused altar. He felt momentarily annoyed at the sight; he would have to find the time to make sure that the temple was clean. Not that it would take long, but the darkness of evening was a precious commodity.<p>

With a wide, deliberate gesture and a few curt words, he let his displeasure take form. A strong wind swept through the room, tearing away cobweb and dust alike. Small spiders scurried away from the ruins of their daily labour, and he let them pass.

He walked to the altar, tracing a familiar path easily and cleanly. The stone was cool to the touch, even to his, and black with the faintest threads of gray running through it. It was an elaborate monument, the more so for its plain, unadorned elegance. He had always liked it, although the labour had not been his; Saito had constructed it almost whimsically during one of his few visits to the mortal plane.

His arms swung across the length of the stone, inches above the surface. His eyes and the altar glowed red at the same time, and then the colour faded into natural black.

_I am ready._

As if hearing his thoughts, two men walked through the door. By their uniforms, it was clear they were Swords of the Church, but not strong enough in blood to aspire to the priesthood. Between them they carried a limp, pale body—Sagara's.

"Lord."

"Put it on the altar. The left side."

The man who had spoken nodded sharply, with only a slight trace of fear—it was not, after all, his blood that would grace the altar this night. Still, it always paid to be careful when dealing with the First Servant of God.

They deposited the body clumsily on the stone altar, but before they could straighten it out, their Lord waved them away.

"That will be all. You may go now."

Nodding, the Swords left.

Kenshin went to the body and began to unfurl it almost gently.

_Second of the Enemy, know that your essence will be used to aid one of Noria._

_I know it._

Ah. He was aware; in some way still attached to the plane. _If there is pain—_

_First of Yamidaria, do what you must. The Lady Kamiya herself has foreseen what has come to pass. If she had seen more clearly, you would not triumph in so bitter a fashion for either of us._

Kenshin stood back for a moment, unsettled by the vague hint of pity that underlay his enemy's thoughts. For a moment he feared a trap, but he shunted that fear aside; trap or no, this opportunity itself could not be wasted.

The noise of approaching guards came down the halls again, and with them a familiar footstep.

Tetsuma. Good. _We must begin soon._

The doors swung open, and Tetsuma walked into the room, step crisp and formal, followed by seven Swords—each wearing the high priest's insignia—and their four captives. Three of them walked with a quiet, desperate dignity; the fourth was dragged, half-conscious, along the floor.

Tetsuma gave a low bow and, kneeling, handed the First Servant a long, thin, ebony box.

Kenshin accepted the offering and quickly set the box down, passing hands over it before flipping the hinged lid open. He clasped the dagger firmly in his left hand and lifted it out of the box.

"The injured one."

Two of the Swords separated from the main group, dragging the half-conscious man to the altar.

"Release him." He nodded as the men did so, and the Noranen –one of Kaoru's year-mates- slumped to the floor. "Stand aside."

He began to chant, his form outlined by a pulsating red that all in the room could clearly see. The body began to rise awkwardly, a tangled mess of arms and legs. It floated higher and higher until it hung, suspended by the ankles, over the still form of Sagara.

Kenshin walked forward, dagger ready, his voice never ceasing its odd litany. With a quick, precise movement, he drew the dagger shallowly across the captive Servant's chest. Then, without halting the knife's motion, he brought it up in an arc that ended Rein's life. It was quick, clean—and every instinct within the First Servant cried out against the fact that it was painless. But he had not come this far by being slave to instinct.

As the blood drained from Rein's throat, he turned again, and the chanting ceased. Almost as an afterthought, the corpse drifted away from the altar, coming to rest in a heap before it.

Kenshin raised one hand, levelling it at one of the Noranen, the youngest by human reckoning.

"Come."

She hesitated, and the Swords fell behind her immediately, cutting her off from her companions. She turned once, caught a pair of friendly, resigned eyes, and nodded, all wordless.

As she approached the altar, her feet rose until she was gliding on air. Then slowly, delicately, she was rotated until her hair brushed across the blood on Sagara's chest, becoming matted and dark at the ends.

The First Servant reiterated his guttural chant, gripping the knife firmly as he again approached Sagara. Another shallow cut, and the knife swung upward—and hesitated for just an instant at the look in the girl's eyes. Blue eyes, like Kaoru's, shone cold and clear with hatred and fear. He brought the knife back almost defensively and sighed. Reaching out, he touched the tip of her chin, and she moved her face away.

"Do not be afraid. You have met your enemy on the field, bravely and strongly. There will be no pain." He saw the tears begin to form in her eyes and her lips begin to tremble. But she was a Noranen, he was Servant to the Dark Lord. He lifted the knife, knowing his hands trembled, and began to chant anew.

Her blood flowed downward, masking her face in a red, ugly sheen. He waited, hearing the sound of it as it struck Sagara's chest. And when it was over, her body, too, came to rest before the altar, but it was deposited almost gently.

Kenshin passed his hands before his face, trying to erase the image that remained; the ghost of blue eyes in the air. He tried to judge the time, not knowing how much of the darkness had elapsed. He felt unaccountably weary.

_It is the magic_, he thought, knowing it to be a lie. He turned once again.

Tetsuma nodded to the Swords, and they selected the second woman. She was older; a scar seamed her face, and the light in her eyes was firm and solid. They brought her forward. Unlike the girl, this Noranen attempted her warding spells. They failed; she had known they would, but it was not her way to walk resigned into death. She was brought to the altar, and held the same way that her two comrades had been held.

"I do not know," she said, through gritted teeth, "what game you play, First of the Enemy. But know this: The blood of Noria can never be used against the circle."

"I know it, Noranen. I know it well." And then he cursed; the response had broken the chant.

"Lord."

He spun, the irritation showing plainly on his features, and Tetsuma took a step back. Only a step; in the temple he was still high priest, and that counted for something even when facing the First of God.

"My Lord." He bowed deeply, more to avoid the smouldering amber in the Servant's eyes than to show subservience. "I, too, do not understand what transpires here. If you cannot consign the Noranen to God, you can at least attempt to draw out their pain on His altar."

"Fool!" Kenshin almost spat the word out.

"Lord." Tetsuma bowed again, torn between anger and fear. Before he could rise from the bow, the Servant spoke again, this time more smoothly, but no less angrily for it.

"High Priest, I do what I do here for my own reasons. If you cannot refrain from questioning them, you may leave the temple."

_Leave the temple?_ Anger won. A feeling of betrayal stirred in Tetsuma. _You've opened your temple for the first time in three years—and blooded the altar in the bargain. But her influence holds you regardless. She weakens you, and through you she weakens the Church and our God._

_Yes, Lord, I will leave the temple. But I will return, and we will see an end to_ _this sacrilege_.

He did not bother to salute or otherwise pay the price that courtesies to a superior demanded. Wheeling, he left the chamber and stalked down the long, empty hall.

At the farthest edge of his earshot, he caught the low dissonance of the First Servant's chant. He quickened his pace; he would have to time his re-entrance with care.

With sure steps he traced the path to the north wing of the castle. He brought a torch with him out of habit, although in the north wing, at any time of day or night, light was not necessary.

His anger grew again as he passed the tapestries along the Kaoru's walls. He hated them; the more so because their expense had come out of Church coffers.

_Never mind, Soon enough they'll be gone._

Her door, gilded and wide, loomed in the torchlight. He hated this as well; these had been the high priest's quarters before she had come to Darthia. He doubted that she was aware of this fact, and pride had never allowed him the expense of informing her.

He raised one hand, hesitated, then knocked, firmly and loudly.

A slave came cringing out of the shadows nearest the door.

"High Priest."

Tetsuma turned slowly, his irritation at the interruption plain across his features. "I am here to speak with the lady. Leave. Now."

The slave took a step back, but it was clear that he had no intention of leaving. "I'm sorry, High Priest. But it's the Lord's orders."

"What orders?"

"The lady's not to be disturbed by anyone—not even the Lord himself."

"The Lord himself sent me."

The slave shook his head. "I'm sorry, master. The lady cannot be disturbed."

"I see." He did, and it didn't please him. "Very well; the business is urgent, but it will have to wait until the morning." He turned away from the door as the slave breathed an audible sigh of relief.

As the slave turned to go, Tetsuma's hand slipped into his left sleeve. A silver sliver flashed in the torchlight, connecting with the slave's spinal column.

_All in all, too easy a death._ Tetsuma set the torch aside, quickly drew the body to one side, and placed it in an alcove. Then, glancing quickly around, he knocked loudly on the door.

No answer.

He tried again, and then tried the door.

Locked.

Cursing, he began to draw upon his own power.

He twisted the door, and this time, although it resisted him, he managed to open it enough to squeeze through. But it cost him. Bitterly he acknowledged the fact that it was a lesser ward; had the First Servant wished to spare the power, he could not have entered the room unless he brought a crew of men to break down one of the walls—the stone walls.

He hurried through the darkened rooms to the bed. Lady Kaoru slept, but not a natural sleep. This his Yamidarian eyes could discern easily.

_Damn._

He knew the spell; it was a strong one—one of the strongest that Tetsuma himself would have been able to cast.

_Damn the door._

He drew out his dagger, edged with the blood of the dead slave.

_If I'd known,_ he thought, gritting his teeth as he brought the blade sharply down into his palm, _I would have killed the slave more slowly, damn him._

But he hadn't; he only hoped that the man's lifeblood, weakened by the easy passage into death, would still grant him enough power to wake the sleeping Noranen. Blood welled into his palm and he began his silent litany.

* * *

><p>Everything moved slowly. Kaoru turned in one direction and then in another, and in each she felt and saw billowing clouds of darkness. They clung to her like webs, and she began to kick out—short, sharp thrusts—in an attempt to weaken them. She could feel a heavy stickiness in her mouth, and began to spit and choke as she realized that the web of darkness clung to her insides. Her hands came up, knives of flesh, and she began to make the motions of the Greater Ward—hoping they would have some effect against this unknown danger.<p>

The going was slow; twice the clouds caught her wrists, breaking her gestures—and twice she began them again, determined. It was hard to make the sweeping pass across her heart; harder perhaps because it had been so long since she'd used the ward itself, but blood remembered, and she was of Noria. She pulled her arms up, her fingers making the last, subtle arcs, and then—

She leaped out of her bed and rolled to one side on the floor. Her eyes snapped open, and she could see one black outline, slightly bent, leaning over her.

But she could move, and her hands already fell into a familiar cadence.

The shadow backed away, offering her open palms.

She called upon light, and it came, flooding the room. Tetsuma flinched and pulled away, withdrawing his hands, but not before Kaoru caught sight of the crimson liquid cupped in them. She stood, slowly, her ward unrelenting.

Tetsuma was very tired. Fatigue bent his back, and he struggled against it just to stand straight. "Lady."

"Tetsuma."

"Believe me, Lady, I mean you no harm."

She looked sceptically at the hands that he'd curled into fists.

"This?" He lifted the offending hand. "This is why I have come." He took a deep breath, allowing the very real anger he felt to show. "Lady, this blood is the blood of the Noranen captives."

The words took some time to penetrate her sleepy mind.

Tetsuma took a step forward.

"I do not lie to you, Lady. The Lord has opened his temple again—and I cannot say that this displeases me."

"He opened a temple?" She put one hand to her forehead.

"Yes. And if you've any chance of stopping him from killing the rest of your companions, you must come, and quickly."

She was almost out of the door. Her gown, red as the blood that covered his hands, swirled in the blue light around her body. For the first time, Tetsuma could truly appreciate that this one had been Kaoru of Noria, not just a minor priestess. He turned to follow her, keeping a careful distance; contact with her when his power was so low could be very painful.

He stopped an inch short of running into her.

"Tetsuma, why are you telling me this? What reason have I to trust your word over Ken—over the First Servant's?"

Again he allowed his anger to show, but this time he could also be truthful.

"Let us be honest, Lady. I want your death. Nothing would please me more. You weaken our Lord, and through him, my Church."

"Understood."

"If you try to stop the Lord, as I believe you must, there is a very real chance he will finally kill you."

"I see."

"And think on this: If you choose not to believe me, your companions will almost certainly perish. Even now they may be dying on the altar. Can you take the chance? You know me well enough to understand my position; regardless of how I feel, or how my priests or Swords feel, I will not be able to take any action against you; it was tried once, and the cost was far too high. I lead you into no trap."

She was uncertain; he could see her face mirror her attempt to disbelieve him. For the most part, it succeeded, and Tetsuma was satisfied. The more she believed the good of her Lord, the more unpredictable she would be.

He thought she might attack the First Servant when she was forced to face fully the truth of his words. And the First Servant, while severely weakened in the act of casting the spell, would still be more than a match for her fury. But the full extent of his aim was more subtle.

_I want you to hate him, Lady. I want you to remember that he is your enemy, as he will not remember that you are his_. "Come."

She followed as he began to jog down the tapestried hallway.

For the most part, Kaoru was angry.

_I don't know what game you're playing at, Tetsuma, but I warn you—if this is just another of your cruel schemes, I'll see you pay._

She was mostly convinced that she would find nothing in the temple but cobwebs and dust. Still, a thin thread of uneasiness ran through her—enough to bring her chasing after Tetsuma down a mostly disused hall, rumpled and bleary-eyed from sleep.

She wondered what type of apparition she would appear should the wandering eye of a slave catch her running past; the image made her smile almost whimsically.

Then the smile froze and shattered.

From out of the small side door to the temple—the castle entrance—she could see cracks of flickering light. She stopped dead in her tracks.

"Come, Lady. There is more yet."

The darkness hid the edge of his grim, satisfied smile. He walked at a more leisurely pace to the door, and then stood to one side of it.

Kaoru came up to the door. For a moment her hand rested nerveless against the handle.

"What are you afraid of, Kaoru?"

Had she the time—or the power—to spare, she might have lashed out at the high priest. Instead she gathered her anger and shock, and pushed the door open as forcefully as she might.

Okita hung, like a dimming candle, over the altar of the Dark Lord. His feet touched air, and his head brushed against the blood-spattered body of Sagara.

Kaoru stood, white against the open door, as words swirled away in a rush, then returned to her open mouth in a single syllable.

"Nooooooo!"

The First Servant of the Dark Lord turned at the sound, but slowly, as if he were exhausted—or casting.

Kaoru didn't see him clearly, for Okita's eyes flickered open as well, catching sight of her. He didn't speak—but he couldn't; he had no throat left for it, and very little life.

_Too little._ Even as Kaoru began to run, heedless of Swords, across the temple, she could see his light dim and fade.

"Okita!"

"Kaoru!"

She turned then, knowing she could do nothing else, to see Kenshin, robed in black, start toward her. His hands were open and red.

She took a step backward. All in the room could see her begin to glow. Her hands swept upward and out, in a large, wide circle.

Two of the Swords ran forward, weapons drawn.

The First Servant began to call them back, but Kaoru's white-fire raced outward in one deadly, brilliant arc. The Yamidarian fell screaming beneath it, and the remaining Swords retreated.

Kaoru made no sound as her arms came up again and fanned outward. Her eyes, when they could be seen at all, were blue and gleaming.

"Kaoru!"

"You lied to me!"

The fire raged outward, and the First Servant fell back, gesturing his own red circle into existence. White-fire beat ineffectually against it and then guttered abruptly as Kaoru drew it in again.

He could not look at her. His hands danced complicated arcs in the air, a quick, smooth counterpart to Kaoru's rage.

Delicate fingers of red wreathed the corner of the room that Kaoru occupied, seeking purchase. They fell away, and Kenshin cursed, but silently.

_Lady, Kaoru, Kaoru._

The red grew in strength and began to curl around the circle that Kaoru had drawn.

_I have no time to spare. I have come this far; I will not lose all now._

He was unprepared for the bolt that she shot across the room, and his defence staggered inward, only barely holding. He was mildly surprised; Kaoru had never once thrown the full weight of her blood-power in his presence. The red net died as he enforced his own shielding.

"Kaoru!"

"They were right!" she cried back, as the white-fire grew impossibly more powerful, "They were right about you!"

He heard the hysteria in her voice; that he expected and accepted—for now. But when it was over—

_Tetsuma. It could only be you. You will pay for this._

"Kaoru—"

"No! I've listened and I've trusted you—and I'll not make the same mistake again!"

Yes, hysteria was there, but beneath it, something darker and more implacable. He felt cold fingers trace themselves along his throat, and words deserted him. Keeping his shield up, he began to advance toward the Kaoru of Noria. "Lady, you cannot hold this fire forever."

He could feel it weakening, but gradually. And time was against him in this. If the dawn came before his work was complete, everything that had passed this eve, even Kaoru's anger—especially Kaoru's anger—would be for nothing. And that he could not accept.

Turning only his head, he barked an order at the guards, and they complied. The red lace of power in the room grew marginally stronger.

Someone snarled, low and guttural, and Kenshin stopped his progress. Kaoru.

Her power swept outward with such force that his shield once again pushed into him. The sound of screams and choking surrounded him briefly, and the red net faded.

"Five. Most impressive, Kaoru. They were defending against you."

He watched her, but her light still shone too brightly for close inspection. _I have no choice, then._

He felt a shadowy anger come upon him and began to pull power from the lifeblood of his unfortunate sacrifices. Only a little; that was all he needed—but even the little jeopardized his chance of completing the spell of immortality he'd so laboriously begun. He used the power thus pulled to strengthen his defence and diverted his own power outward.

Red-fire flared in the room as he gestured. Each movement was concise and economical. The light surrounding Kaoru drew inward as she frantically brought her own hands up. Red-fire ate away at the white in her, and it ebbed into the gray of stone and the orange of torchlight.

Kenshin could see her face clearly for the first time since she'd entered the room. With a curt, downward motion, he killed the red-fire.

Kaoru looked around the room, her gaze measured and hard.

"What will you do now, Lord? What will you do to one who has tried to kill you and failed?"

Her voice was tight, cold, and focused in ways that it had never been. Her hands were furled into small, white fists.

"Lady—"

"No. I'm not your Lady."

"Lady—"

"I choose to be Kaoru, warrior of Noria, your enemy."

He met her eyes, then, and took a step back. He almost did not recognise her. He felt a sudden lurch, a pain of a sort that had only touched him through the dim shadow of fear. It was strong, as the fear had promised it would be. The light was gone.

In its place stirred something too close to hatred and darkness for a creature of the dark to mistake. Coming from her, it was so wrong. He stood back, raising one hand as if to stop what was in her eyes.

The light was dead.

He faced her, not knowing how to. She didn't flinch, didn't move a finger, just stood, cold, smooth alabaster—the corpse of what he'd come to desire.

The blood that remained on his hands burned. He looked down as if seeing it for the first time. Confusion blurred his thoughts.

"Kaoru—"

She could not, would not respond. Even the tears that often accompanied her darkest moods were absent; absurdly enough, he had accomplished at least that goal. Looking down, he noticed that small patches of red marred the fabric—whose blood, exactly, he could not say.

He took a step forward, then another, almost stumbling toward her. She remained where she was, and he saw in her face her precious lines, and the type of defeat that the lines could acknowledge—all hard, all cold, a bitter, noble pride—but nothing, not one hint, of warmth or light.

Not even when he brought his hands up to cup her face.

He caught her chin roughly, knowing that he would hurt her, but unable to stop.

"No. The light cannot be dead. I will not allow it."

Her mouth opened and closed again.

He bent his power outward, more subtly this time, probing her, searching for things that eyes alone could never touch. He pulled at her, at the thoughts she kept hidden, at the sense of personality that slid like water away from his grip. Nothing.

He caught her arms and shook her hard enough to make her neck snap backward without breaking it.

"Lady, I do this for you—I do it because—"

"You did not do this for me."

He saw a hint of fear in her, but could not bring himself to exploit it. Pain, he knew well, would not bring back what was lost. Power would not. Death would not.

And thus he learned the first lesson of his Enemy: _that only the thing truly given is precious; that this thing that is precious can never be forced._

He bowed his head, brushing convulsively against her chest. Almost of their own accord her arms went out, trembled against the air, and fell to her sides.

"First Servant, you have already killed me."

He looked up. She looked away. And in the motion, everything. His confusion dissipated; his pain did not. But now the way was clear.

"Finish it. Or I will finish it. There are things even I cannot live with." Her voice was empty.

His fingers brushed her cheek, gently, and she knew she should not have spoken. He stood, straight and tall, the lapse in his control a thing already of the past.

"Come, Lady."

Quietly, she followed him to the altar.

There he turned, again catching her face. "Lady."

She was trembling.

He was Kenshin, First Servant of Darthia, ruler of half the world. Twice challenged, he had left the dead behind, with a determination and strength that marked him as First still.

To lose was not his way.

He bent down and kissed her forehead, so she would not see the amber of his eyes as they blazed with the strength of the dead. His arms shot out to catch her as she crumpled, to hold her as she would not now allow him if she were conscious. He carried her quickly to the altar, and there kissed her sleeping mouth. The approaching dawn did not allow for more.

Quickly he picked up the dagger that lay exposed on the stained altar. He cut his hand neatly and smoothly, and repeated the operation upon hers. Trembling, he brought her hand to his and pressed them firmly together.

And then he sought her memory; the core of what she'd seen; the thing that had killed the light. He found it easily and began to blanket it in his shadow, dimming it and then carefully cutting it away from the rest of her life. When it was done, he pulled away, nearly exhausted.

She would not remember.

Almost, he woke her then; the temptation was strong.

_And if you wake, what then, Lady? The world is still the world; and it is still mine. Will you not suffer the more to continue to see what I must do?_

He pulled away, still clutching the dagger.

_Let me finish my task, let concur the whole world. Let me take what is mine by right of power. And then, perhaps, I can return it to you—a gift for my lady._

He approached her again, uncertainly.

Then the uncertainty vanished. For in the future, a human decade away, maybe more, the rest of the Light Servants must be dealt with and her village will be swallowed. And he would have to face again the loss that had almost overwhelmed him this evening.

_No. I will not lose her—not that way. Nor any other._

He stepped away from her, and leaned over the body of Sagara.

_First of Darthia_. The voice of Sagara was no more than a whisper.

The dagger tossed torchlight against the ceiling.

_You are indeed the One. Your time is short; I feel the dawn, and it is close. Will you truly do this thing?_

In reply, the dagger came down, point first, wearing an aurora of pure red.

Sagara's body jerked violently as the point hit his breast and slammed down. The knife went up twice more, and the voice of the Second of Noria was lost to the mortal plane.

Kenshin lifted Kaoru's hand and cupped the Servant's blood in it, letting it trickle into the wound in her palm. Blood ran through her fingers into the nest of his own cut hand. It hurt, but he let it in.

_Now, Kaoru._ He began to chant. _Your life and mine._

He raised his free hand and chased a pattern of fire through the air. The pattern fell around the three of them, drawing them closer and closer together.

_I free you from mortal time._

_I release you from death._

_For as long as I exist, you shall rule beside me._

He held her thus until the blood ceased to flow. Then, without pause to exult in his night's work, he carried her out of the temple to the north wing of the castle. There he did what he could to clean her, washing and bandaging her hand and carefully brushing her hair.

When he was finished, he tucked her gently into bed.

_Sleep, little one. I shall waken you._

He made it to the door by effort of will and then stopped dead.

"May I stay, Kaoru? It will be dawn; I can see the sky change. I shall not hurt you."

He walked back into the room, turned the covers down, and after removing—with great care—the robes he wore, he slid in beside her.

She was warm as she lay in his arms. Her face smooth and child like. Her breath fanned his chest, as it had done many evenings while she slept. But something was missing.

_Am I not to have the comfort of your company before the campaign starts? Kaoru, Lady, forgive me._ He woke her, eyes glinting weakly.

She stirred against his chest.

"Kaoru?"

"Hmmmm? Is it morning already?"

"Not quite."

"Good. Sleepy."

He was silent for a few minutes, aware that if he did not cast his spell soon, he would not be able to—the black of sky had given way to transparent navy blue.

"Kaoru?" His arms tightened.

"What is it, darkling?"

Warmth shot through him.

"I wish you to know, Lady, that I am what I am: First Servant of your Enemy."

"I know." Her voice was still heavy with sleep.

"But I—" He kissed her, fully, and she responded. He told her what he must; for he finally understood it as true. "I love you as much as I am able."

"Darkling." She said it in sleepy wonder, her hands brushing against his shoulders, his face.

"Will you remember this?"

"Of course."

"Will you love me?"

She was silent a moment, and then he felt it: The bands of her light were glowing with life and strength. They touched him, pierced him, and passed through him with such sweet clarity that her words were lost.

And then his eyes flickered red one last time, and Kaoru's smile was surrendered to sleep.

He lay holding her, a feeling of peace upon him.

"Sleep, Lady. Sleep. I will watch you; I will plan for the time when the world can be as you desire."

She slept...

And he waited.

* * *

><p><em>Twenty years later...<em>

* * *

><p>It was almost time.<p>

Hiko, Third of Noria stared at length into the placid waters of the fountain that had been stilled for a century. Caught there, his reflection stared back at him, already flat and lifeless. Even his time in exile could not lessen the impact.

_So many had died. _

He was a Servant, the Third of the Bright Lord. Memory hung about him in sharp crystal shards that could not be avoided.

He glanced behind him, saw the sword and the satchel as they rested by the fountain. All was ready.

_Just as you wished, Lady Kamiya._

_It is almost time._

The Dark Lord of the Empire waited without; his army of Swords, priests, and mortals arrayed on the new field. People of Noria, Lady Kamiya's descendants, were dead or scattered, the first of the lines to fall.

_Only the first._ It would continue, and the people of Noria would pay all the price that Lady Kamiya had once seen. But she would not be present for those losses; the burden would no longer be hers.

He rose, looking at the fragile beauty of Lady Kamiya's garden. It glowed with an enchantment and life that had taken much of her power to cast. And here it would wait until the return of the last of the children of Noria.

_Little Kaoru..._

He had no regrets, he was the last of the Bright Servants. He had distance himself from the people of Noria for many decades, remorse was there, but suppressed. Lady Kamiya had set events in motion, cast the net of Noria's Hope as widely as possible. Sagara had fulfilled his role.

It was his turn.

It was time to discharge the last of the responsibilities that she had assigned to him—the last, and the easiest. The only farewell he made to the Woodhall and the life it had once contained was a quiet backward glance.

* * *

><p>Hiko's power entered the field; it caused pain, it brought death. For a moment his blood stirred at the combat; the Light against the Dark. But only for a moment. Arrows flew, swords were raised, the tiny gnat of fire the priests could send came forward, but these he could disregard. Even the field, spotted by shrubs and trees over the rolling hills, seemed withered and gray; life was already beyond him.<p>

Then he came, First of the Darkness.

All around him, his troops grew quiet. The arrows ceased their gentle storm, the traces of red were withdrawn.

He faced him, and he saw some of what he felt inside mirrored in his dark face. They were Light and Dark, as in the primordial beginning.

All around them the twisted bodies of lesser mortals lay in grotesque tribute to the roots of their heritage.

Hiko held his power, waiting. So, too, did Kenshin hold his.

No song came to them to fill the empty victory, the empty defeat. No true enmity took fire, no true hatred.

"We have both been changed by the mortal world." Hiko said.

For a moment Kenshin's power flickered sharply, his eyes danced. He saw in him only an echo of the past, no more.

"Yes".

They stood above their power, then.

"Kenshin,"

"Hiko."

The Third smiled, no exultance in it. "Do you remember the first time we met?"

Kenshin nodded, his smile a match for his, devoid of the wrath and the pull that had driven him to destroy him. "Well."

They were silent again, the army forgotten. "It was before the gray of the world." Kenshin shook himself and stood taller. "But we had heard, that Lady Kamiya had dared the veils of time. And it has availed her nothing, in the end, but death—a true death, not a sojourn with your God."

Hiko's eyes gazed beyond him, seeing too much, seeing too little. "No," Hiko answered. "Lady Kamiya had died for the sake of Noria's hope."

Silence.

Hiko continued. "She went where the two Gods could not go, at the behest of the Bright Lord. This she foresaw; this and your victory." His face suddenly grew very still. "Do you remember, Kenshin, the time when we each walked the void? I wanted, not long ago, to be cleansed by fire. And in some wise I have been granted that. You know what you must do. I know it, and I have accepted it. Come, let us have an end."

"Hiko." The First said his name and met his eyes. "Know this: We have nurtured common blood. You were a worthy foe; when the empire is the world, your blood will always be remembered by it."

Hiko smiled. "And is the empire still so important?"

The question stung Kenshin; for a moment he same a familiar innocent and vulnerable face.

"It is mine."

"That is all the answer I need." Hiko's smiled disturbed Kenshin "And you will pay a price for it, in the end, that is as heavy to you as the one I have paid. The two," Kenshin understood Hiko's words perfectly. _Kaoru._ "you cannot have; and you will be torn between them."

Kenshin's fire lashed out then; Hiko's shields went up. Both flickered and dwindled.

"You do not know pity yet, First of Darthia." He was weary. "Come, end this."

Still the red head Servant stayed his hand, troubled. This was not the Third of the Bright Lord, not as he remembered him.

He had changed.

"Brother," Hiko said softly.

Kenshin stiffened. This fight, this battle, this war—for the moment all were hollow. How dared he make a mockery of his power by his acquiescence?

But he, too, was suddenly weary.

"Is this the death you deserve, Seijuro? Is this the death Lady Kamiya foresaw for yourself?" There and then he swore he would never do as he had done.

"It is . . . peace." And his shields fell.

Bitterness sang all around him as his fire flared out for the last time. True power that God alone might match.

As he wished, he was cleansed. He had lived many years in exile, he had no regrets. No pain seemed to escape him before even the form he had shown was blown away in a red, red wind.

Kenshin turned when it was finished and walked away into the darkness, ignoring the rustle of mindless chatter at his back.

_Kaoru._ He yearned for her; beside this the desire to feed was as nothing. _Kaoru . . ._

Hiko was the last Servant of the Bright Lord. Their legacy has ended. But this was only the beginning. Many kingdoms must be destroyed before seeking, once again, the comfort of her light.

Two decades of darkness was longer than Kenshin, First of the Sundered, had ever thought possible.

_How much longer?_

He shook himself, whispered three words, and passed through the darkness to Darthia. Let the army do as it would without him; he would return to them soon enough. He walked into the shadows of his rooms; walked into the darkness that no light penetrated.

And there, under a halo of gentle red, she waited for him. In silence he stood, while the time drifted by. Days passed thus, stretching out. What of it? He had time. They had time.

He touched her hand; it did not move.

Very gently he lifted her body, cradling it in his dark arms. He touched her hair and kissed her silent lips.

_Is this what you feel, Kaoru?_

_Is this what you feel when you cry?_

* * *

><p>Soooooo sad I know. I cried while writing this chapter. Kenshin truly loves her but his way is different. Read the beginning of the very first chapter now. It would make sense.<p>

Sorry for the long chapter, I planned to divide them but I am so busy and I thought I would post it all at once.

Now I am not sure where to go next. I have a plan, but I am unsure. Many years would pass maybe a century or two. Kaoru of course will not grow now. She would be forever as she is, tied to Kenshin. I plan to introduce Sano, Misao and Yahiko, I am undecided yet. Also in the next part Tomoe and Enishi will be the main villains.

Any suggestions would be welcomed.


	14. Chapter 14

Author's note:

I know many have been wondering if I am still alive. It is not in me to discontinue a story suddenly but so many things occurred in the past few months that span my world around. I got married on May and it turned out horrible. For three months I was verbally and physically abused by my husband and now I am taking the matter to court and you know those things take time.

Things are starting to be back to normal. I am changed by the awful experience but I still love to read and write, therefore, you haven't seen the last of me. It will take time but I will continue the story.

until then,

take care.

Miriel


End file.
